The Early Years
by velja
Summary: Part One of the 'Patchwork Family' Series. AU,GEN, 14years pre-show. Peter and Nathan discover their powers but can they stop a fire in Texas from changing their lives? Bennet's life takes a turn for the worse after a tragedy caused by the company.
1. Chapter 1

**The Early Years**

(Part One of the **'Patchwork Family'** Series)

by velja

* * *

**Main Characters:** Nathan and Peter Petrelli, Claire and Noah Bennet, Claude Rains; minor appearances of other characters (from the show and original ones)

**Pairings:** Brief mentions of Nathan/others, Noah/Sandra, Claude/others, hints for (but no actual) Claude/Noah and Peter/Nathan; but it's **Noah/Nathan** eventually.

**Rating:** PG-13 mostly, some parts R (for language, sex, torture and murder)

**Warnings:** Character deaths (no main character though), angst, brief torture, murder, probably some tissue-alert, and of course a lot of fluff, cuteness and hopeless sappiness.

**Setting:** This is completely AU since it's set years before the show! You may recognize a few canon events from "Company Man" and other episodes that deal with the past. The story starts in 1991 when Peter is eleven and Nathan twenty-two. And 'Nathan's folly in Texas' already happened (since Claire was born in 1990). Bennet is thirty when he first appears. This story is centered around the lives of Nathan, Peter, Noah, Claire and Claude and the adventurous stuff the series revolves around won't happen here. Be warned, this is supposed to be a 'how-they-got-together-and-lived-happily-ever-after-fic'.

**Summary: **What if the Petrelli brothers had developed their powers at a younger age? And what if Bennet had experienced the company's ruthlessness quite personally? What if the Haitian had never been brought into any of this? How would these things have changed everyone's life? And what would be the chances of Claire growing up in a happy family then?

**Disclaimer:** I'm not Tim Kring, so I don't own anything. Some dialogue was taken directly from the show (Episode 1x17: Company Man) and I took the newspaper article from Episode 1x13: The Fix. I'm using everything for fun purpose only.

**Author's Note: **This idea grew after seeing some pictures from the Heroes World Tour 2007. Then it just wouldn't leave me alone. I know that both Nathan and Bennet may seem way out of character but please try to remember that since their lives were changed a lot from canon… well, they changed, too. But I hope I didn't write them too far off from the way we know and like them.

English isn't my native language and I could probably do with a beta but… well, now all mistakes are my own. Sorry!

* * *

**The Early Years**

**Chapter One**

_Spring 1991_

Of the two Petrelli brothers Nathan had always been the more cold and level-headed one. Thinking things through to the end, never starting something without measuring the possible outcome first, that was Nathan. And more than once in his life Nathan had deliberately lost the moral compass on the way; he'd left ethics, all that's generally considered good and right and honorable, behind in favor of what he considered personally good and right for his own luck.

His mother always said he got that trait from his father. And Nathan knew that she was right. He could clearly see himself in his father's cold and decidedly dubious actions.

There were so many similarities between his father and himself (even now, at the age of twenty-two) that Nathan was sure he'd end up just like him if… if it wouldn't have been for Peter.

Sweet and dreamy Peter, head always lost somewhere in the clouds, who with his eleven years was already the purest, most selfless and best person Nathan had ever known.

Peter stumbled through life with big puppy-dog eyes, hands in his pockets and whistling innocently, while coming up and getting away with the most stupid ideas Nathan had ever seen.

Or participated in.

For whatever hare-breaded scheme Peter cooked up, Nathan was never far away. Never so far as to not get caught up in it with him.

Despite the gap in their ages the two brothers had been nearly inseparable for as long as they knew. With their parents often gone to deal with some business or another, Nathan and Peter had learned to trust and rely on nobody but themselves.

Nathan had tried to implant into Peter some strength and a sense of self-preservation he knew his little brother often lacked. He was just too good for this world.

And in return he'd learned from Peter to slowly open up and from time to time put some faith in other people than himself. Sometimes you just needed someone to rely on, someone else to lean on for support and strength.

Not someone to push all your problems toward like a burden for them to bear and solve but someone to bear and solve them **with** you.

Throughout the last couple of months Nathan had gradually understood that Peter, despite his young age, wanted to be that person for him. And whenever he'd let him be Peter had managed to convince Nathan of just how right it had been for him to put that kind of trust in his little brother.

Peter had always succeeded, he hadn't once let him down.

And that's why, on this fateful Saturday morning in May 1991, when the Petrelli brothers were once again staying in New York while their parents took care of some business in Tokyo, Nathan didn't hesitate for one second to confide in Peter.

He stumbled out of bed and, clad in sleeping shorts and a blue t-shirt, short-cropped dark hair still messy from sleep, made his way across the hall to Peter's room. Joyce, the cook, could be heard humming downstairs in the kitchen, she was probably preparing waffles right now. But Nathan didn't waste a thought on breakfast, right now his stomach couldn't have handled it anyway. His insides squirmed about as if he'd had way too much to drink last night.

Which couldn't be true since he'd spent the evening at home. First he'd been watching TV with Peter and when the young boy had fallen asleep on the couch Nathan had carried him upstairs, had tucked him in and then stayed at his bedside, watching over the small boy and looking at the child's face under the familiar mop of dark hair with a tender smile. The steady rise and fall of Peter's breath had lulled Nathan into thoughts of another child sleeping through the night, somewhere in Texas. A small girl, now about nine months old.

Nathan had let out a soundless sigh then. He still wasn't sure if it had been the right decision, and he felt kind of bad for leaving Meredith without so much as a goodbye. He'd left money for the child, sure, but…

But of course his mother had been right, there hadn't been any other way. It would never have worked out with Meredith, they were too different in character, in status quo… in everything really. Nathan knew that. And he also knew that he needed to focus on his career right now. He'd finished Harvard's law school as one of the top five students and with his father's influence had gotten into one of the most renowned law offices in New York. If he wanted to become junior partner within the next five years he needed to focus all his energies on his job, and not on some Texan hippy girl and her baby. Meredith would do fine without him, financially, Nathan had seen to that (at least his mother had given him free reign over how much he'd left Meredith, thanks for small favors).

And still… sitting there in the comforting darkness of Peter's bedroom, Nathan had been able to admit it. A small pang of guilt was still gnawing at his insides and he'd allowed himself to dream for a while. What if he'd refused to leave Meredith and their child behind and instead had offered to marry her? Okay, so he didn't love her but… perhaps love would have come gradually? If he'd left New York and his family… He could have gotten a job in Texas, lawyers were needed everywhere in the country after all.

But that would have meant he'd have to leave Peter behind, too.

Another look at the sleeping boy by his side and Nathan had known that he'd made the right decision after all. He could never have left Peter. Sweet, innocent Peter. Not in a million years would he stop looking out for his little brother.

Eventually Nathan had left Peter's room and had gone to bed, his conscience lighter than before. Sleep had found him quickly and Nathan hadn't thought or even dreamed of anything until…

Yeah, well… until **that thing** had happened just now.

And it was something so extraordinary weird and unusual that he was for a brief moment completely sure he'd imagined it. Or maybe he'd dreamed after all, a particularly vivid dream. But then…no.

With one hand on the handle Nathan stopped in front of Peter's door, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to recall the feeling from a few minutes ago, waking up disorientated, not knowing where he was for a second before consciousness won the fight it had every morning with sleep.

There, Nathan felt the soft tickle from before return to his guts. A warm glow started to grow in his chest and spread towards both arms. The warmth filled his hands and stretched out onto the doorknob he was still clasping tightly.

Nathan opened his eyes and threw a quick glance down to his bare feet. Feet that hovered a few good inches above the wooden floor for a second before they dropped down again.

With another shaky breath Nathan opened the door and slipped into his little brother's room.

"Pete?" he whispered urgently. "Pete, wake up!"

"Huh? Nooo!"

The sleepy whine was followed by a quick rustling of bedcovers when the younger boy pulled them over his head to block out Nathan's voice. He didn't want to wake up yet, he'd just been having such a wonderful dream. He'd been flying, and not by plane or anything! By himself! Just him, he'd spread his tiny arms and the spring breeze had taken and lifted him up into the blue sky above New York.

And Peter wanted to return to that wonderful dream, he wanted to feel the wind in his hair again and his clothes flutter around his small body like leaves on a tree. He wanted…

"Pete, you have to see this!" Nathan's persistent voice once again chased the images from Peter's mind, they dissolved into blurry nothingness and left a strange feeling behind. The sensation of being bereft of something good only to make way for something even better to come.

Something…

"Pete, look! I can fly!"

Peter's eyes flew open at once and he sat up in bed, suddenly no longer sleepy. He wanted to tell his irritating brother off for once. But the question how Nathan could possibly know about his dream never managed to leave Peter's mouth for all that came out was a silent gasp at the sight before him.

Or rather above him, for Nathan was hovering directly above his bed, in mid-air, feet and all. Supported by nothing but thin air.

"I can fly, Peter!" Nathan repeated and the serious expression he usually wore was for once replaced by a genuine smile.

Peter's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Wow, Nathan! What… how…?"

"I don't know, Pete. It just… it just happened!" Nathan leaned forward and imitated Superman's flying position, one arm slightly bent and the other stretched out straight.

Lighthearted laughter bubbled from Peter's mouth seeing this and for once Nathan gave in to childish joy and joined him. He could fly! Like Superman! He hadn't felt this great since… ever!

Nathan yelped in shock when the horizontal pose suddenly caused him to lose his balance and zoom forward. He would smash his head against the wall behind Pete's bed! Nathan screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable impact, but… he suddenly felt Peter's small hands taking hold of his larger ones and then he was being pulled to a stop with his face mere inches away from the wall.

"Thanks, Pete!" he sighed relieved and straightened up a bit, not letting go of his brother's hands just yet. This flying thing wasn't as easy as they'd make it look on TV, you had to concentrate on every muscle in your body or…

All of a sudden Nathan realized that Peter's head was far closer to his than before. In fact his face had somehow reached eye-level but that was impossible, wasn't it? Peter was still a child, he had to be a good three heads shorter than his grown-up brother, unless…

Nathan's eyes flew down to the bed and he saw Peter's feet had somehow left the ground. They were now hovering half a meter above the flowery bedcovers, kicking in the air.

"Peter…" Nathan locked his gaze with Peter's.

"Look Nathan! I can do it, too! I can fly! Just like in my dream! I can fly, Nathan!" Peter's voice doubled over from joy and his big brown eyes glistened brightly.

Nathan couldn't help but grin back and whoop in joy. They both could fly!

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_February, 1992_

The months had passed more or less unexcited since Nathan and Peter had discovered their ability to fly. They hadn't talked to anyone about it and Nathan had made his little brother swear to absolute secrecy, no matter how badly Peter wanted to tell, or better yet show the whole world.

But Nathan knew that if anybody ever found out, their lives would never be the same again. They'd probably be locked up in some weird scientific facility to be prodded and poked at and studied inside out.

No, thanks. He could do without that.

He'd tried to make Peter understand, carefully choosing words appropriate for a kid, what would likely happen if they were found out and eventually Peter had agreed to keep the whole flying thing under wrap. He'd solemnly promised to keep it their little secret forever. Scouts honor.

Nathan had hoped that the situation would be under control then but of course Peter had had other ideas. Stupid ideas that had led to even more stupid situations.

The most stupid one Nathan had stumbled in on so far had been the day he'd found a sloppily wrapped package on his bed. Peter had come running into his room while Nathan was busy tearing the paper apart. The young boy had been bouncing on his heels waiting for Nathan to unwrap… a costume!

A clumsily sewn Superman costume in garish blue, red and yellow had nearly blinded Nathan's sight and for a second he hadn't known what to do or say. He'd plopped down onto his bed, the idiotic garment in hands, and had stared into Peter's eager face.

"I made one for myself as well and now we can go be heroes!" Peter's voice had been full of hope and joy and Nathan, who'd sworn to never ever hurt his brother, had closed his eyes and said nothing.

"Try it on, Nathan!"

"No!"

"But…"

"I said no, Peter!" Nathan had stood up and started pacing. He hadn't dared to glance at Peter for he'd known that the crushed look on his brother's face would bring him to his knees.

"What in the name of God made you think that I would ever want to wear a stupid costume and go flying around?"

"Every hero needs a costume to hide his true identity, Nathan!" Peter had pouted.

"We are no heroes, Pete! I told you I'm not gonna start pulling stupid kittens out of fucking trees or whatever!"

"But…"

"This discussion is over, Peter. Is that clear?" Nathan had thrown his brother the most severe glare he could muster and had stuffed the costume along with its wrappings into the last corner of his closet.

Peter had been angry and disappointed and for the next two days had refused to talk to him at all. But eventually his frustration had faded away and soon enough a new idea had formed in that childish brain of his. One that Nathan hadn't been able to wipe away so easily because…

He'd secretly thought about it, too.

For the last three months now Peter had permanently begged Nathan to just go flying with him. 'Nobody is gonna see us, Nathan. Come on, you know you want to!'… Nathan had lost count on how many times he'd heard his brother say that.

And two or three times Nathan had actually given in. In the evenings, when their parents had been too busy to notice their absence, the two brothers had stolen away to the rooftop and had lifted their bodies up into the night.

They'd once run a race to the Statue of Liberty and back (which Nathan had won, if only barely) and Nathan had very reluctantly admitted afterwards that it had been fun. Dangerous, reckless and irresponsible – what if they'd been seen? What if something had happened to them, if they'd crashed into a plane or something – but fun.

Later Nathan had felt bad for acting so reckless and immature. And for giving Peter ideas. But the joy that had shone from Peter's eyes, the laughter and happiness radiating off the small boy, Nathan hadn't been able to resist that. He'd never felt closer to his little brother, never felt so full of pride and love for him. And he'd known there and then that he'd do it again, stupid and reckless or not.

If Peter asked him again…

So when Nathan entered his parents' home after a long and tiring Wednesday at the office to find Peter already waiting for him, a certain gleam in his eyes and the plea already forming on his lips, he knew his plans for the evening (watching the Yankees' game with a good glass of wine) had just been squashed.

"Nathan, can we…" Peter started but then their mother's voice from the study overrode the boy's.

"Nathan? Come in here for a minute, I need to talk to you."

Nathan shot a small smile at his little brother, mouthed something like 'just a minute, Pete', and made his way to where his mother was waiting.

Angela Petrelli stood up from behind the desk when her eldest entered. She gave him what passed for a smile and motioned for him to sit down.

"Hello Ma," Nathan greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Then he sat down and watched his mother lean against the desk in front of him, arms crossed over her chest. The smile on her beautiful face faded into a stern glare.

"Today I somehow received an envelope with photos along with an invoice of 300 Dollars. It came from a Private Detective Agency in Texas, Nathan. Care to explain?"

Nathan sat up in his chair and looked her straight in the eyes. "I hired someone to check on Meredith and the baby."

"And why would you do that?" his mother wanted to know.

"Why?" Nathan frowned. "You know why, mom."

"Enlighten me, please," Angela started pacing. "Because I don't see why what happens to some girl in Texas should be of your interest. Nor of your responsibility, not anymore."

"Mom, she's my daughter!" Nathan stated calmly.

"I wasn't talking about the baby, Nathan. I was talking about the mother who received a great deal of money, **our** money may I add, so that she and the baby could live happily ever after or whatever it is these young girls tend to do nowadays. She's not supposed to bother you anymore."

Angela had come to a halt in front of Nathan and looked down at him with a motherly smile, the one she'd usually give sweet Peter whenever he'd done something completely stupid. The one that said 'You are being dumb again but we try to love you anyway'.

"Don't look at me like that," Nathan groused and stood up. Now it was his turn to pace through the room. "I'm not a kid anymore, ma. I have one! That baby is my daughter! And I care about her. I'm not like you, I can't shut down and cut off my emotions."

"You're on your way to become a lawyer, Nathan, a brilliant one. And correct me if I'm wrong but I rather thought that cutting off your emotions was one of the top character traits required for the job. You're just being stubborn."

Angela patted his arm and Nathan had trouble not pulling away. He took a deep breath and went on: "Ma, I understand that I have to focus on my career right now and that there's no room for the baby, or Meredith. I knew that and accepted your proposition. I left them. But I need to know that they're okay, I need to be allowed to check on them from time to time. Maybe even be part of their lives later, if they'll let me. You can't expect me to simply act as if I never had a child… to forget about them… If you think me capable of that then you don't know me at all."

With one last defiant look Nathan walked out of the study, not hearing Angela's quiet reply: "I know you, Nathan. Hence the problem."

She let out a soft sigh and watched him go. Then she stepped around the desk, picked up the phone and dialed a number by heart. Someone picked up only seconds later.

"Kaito Nakamura, please. Thank you."

* * *

Nathan stormed up the stairs, desperately trying to lose that suffocating tie around his neck, and rushed into his room. The door slammed shut after him and Peter, sitting there on his bed, startled slightly.

"Not now, Pete," Nathan fell down onto his back with arms crossed over his head and his eyes closed. He needed a minute to calm down.

"Apartment 3d, Ebony Lane, Kermit, Texas." Peter said after a while.

"Huh?" Nathan lifted his head to look at his little brother. "What's that?"

"It's said on the back here."

Nathan suddenly noticed the stack of photos Peter was holding. He sat up abruptly and took them out of his hands.

A three-storied apartment house, old and shabby with teal-colored windowpanes and white paint peeling off the walls, was marked with a red X in a row of similar buildings. The address Peter had just read aloud had been written in black letters onto the back. The next picture showed the same house with the front door open and a young blond girl with a baby in her arms just about to step outside. There were three more pictures of the woman, all taken from somewhere across the street.

Nathan looked up to Peter. "Where did you get these?"

"When you and mom were talking I sneaked in and took them from the coffee table," Peter's eyes gleamed wickedly before he turned serious again. "So, is it true?" Big brown eyes locked with Nathan's more shaded ones. "Do you really have a baby?"

"You heard that?" Nathan raised one eyebrow before he looked down onto the pictures once more. After a while he nodded.

"Wow," Peter stated, "you're a dad!"

"Technically, yes."

"Technically? What do you mean? Are you or not?" Peter pointed to the picture still in Nathan's hand.

"I am," Nathan nodded, "but… well, I left, didn't I? I'll probably never meet the kid."

"Huh," Peter frowned, "why did you leave her? Why didn't you marry her? I mean the mother, of course. Aren't you supposed to marry if you are to have a baby? I always thought you had to be married to have a baby."

"You don't have to be married," Nathan replied without thought. "You just have to have…"

He broke off, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was talking to his little brother. He didn't know how much Peter already knew about sex and… he'd rather not have that kind of conversation with him. Ever.

"You mean sex?" Peter supplied with a smirk.

Nathan sighed. It seemed like he would have to have that kind of conversation now, whether he wanted or not. "What do you know about that?" he asked and placed the photos aside. They'd have to wait.

"Well, I know how it's done, technically!" Peter smirked briefly. "I know that you're supposed to stick your… you know, inside…" he broke off and pulled a face. "But I can't imagine ever doing that. Nor you doing it."

"God, I hope not!" Nathan groaned.

"But you did it, didn't you?" Peter went on. Nathan only groaned again. "How was it, Nathan? Was it weird? I bet it was weird. Was it weird?"

"Not as weird as this conversation, believe me, Pete." Nathan finally answered.

"Did you do it more than once?"

Nathan glared at Peter, not liking the eager voice of his little brother. "I won't answer that."

"A-ha! So you did. If not, you would have said so."

Nathan let his head fall back down onto the bed and closed his eyes. Maybe if he pretended not to hear anything, Peter would stop any time soon?

"Did you do it only with girls? Or have you tried gay sex, too?"

"What?" Nathan's eyes flew open again. "No! Why would you think I'm gay? I'm not! Do I look gay to you?"

Peter smirked and let his eyes wander over him from head to toe. Then he shook his head. "No, not really. But that doesn't have to mean anything, you know. Jimmy Hawthorne's brother doesn't look gay but still, Jimmy once walked in on him having sex with another guy. They were both naked and Jimmy's brother was lying face down on the bed with his ass up in the air and the other guy…"

And here Nathan had thought that this conversation couldn't get any more awkward. He'd been wrong, obviously. Because listening to his little brother, not even a teen yet, recapping another guy's gay sexcapades had just catapulted itself onto the top of his 'never-ever-to-endure-again-list'.

"Stop it, Pete!" Nathan finally groaned. "You don't have a clue of what you're talking about. You've got a few more years before you'll get there and believe me… once you're old enough you'll be even more embarrassed about this conversation than I am now."

"You're my big brother, Nathan. I don't think there's anything I'll ever feel embarrassed about talking to you." Peter came to lie down next to Nathan on the bed and rested his head on his brother's shoulder. "Ever," he repeated and snuggled up to Nathan's side.

"I'll talk to you again in about three or four years!" Nathan smiled, glad for the conversation to have come to an end. "When I've repeatedly kept you from 'walking the dog' by bursting in on you in the shower."

Peter lifted his head with a frown. "We don't have a dog, Nathan. And even if we did, why would I take it for a walk in the shower?"

Nathan's following laughter rang out loud enough to even reach their mother downstairs.

Angela Petrelli had just hung up the phone with a satisfied smile on her face. The talk with Kaito had been more than successful.

Come tomorrow there would be nothing (or no one) in Texas for Nathan to worry about anymore.

* * *

Later that night Nathan was just about to drift off to sleep when he suddenly heard the sound of his bedroom door being opened.

"Nathan, wake up! We have to get to Texas, now!"

Peter's urgent voice was followed by the bedside lamp being switched on and then a firm grip on his arm. Nathan turned around in his bed and tried to blink the sleep from his eyes.

"Pete? It's the middle of the night, for God's sake! Go back to sleep." He wanted to lie back again but Peter wouldn't stop shaking his shoulder until Nathan had had enough and he sat up.

"What!"

"There's a fire, Nathan," Peter's voice nearly doubled over. "That house in Texas, the one from the photo, I just saw it burning down! We have to…"

"You what?" Nathan wasn't amused. "You **saw** it? And how would you have done that?"

"I…" Peter took a steadying breath, "I dreamed it, okay?"

"You dreamed it," Nathan repeated and rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. "Peter…"

"No, listen! You have to believe me, it's happening right now. I never told you but… I've dreamed about things before, things that I couldn't know about, and then they really happened."

"Like you dreamed that you could fly," Nathan stated only half-mocking. It was true, the day they'd found out about their ability Peter had said something about having a dream before. A dream where he'd flown. And then it had come true. But that didn't mean… it couldn't be that… Peter couldn't really see the future, could he?

"Yes, just like that! I dreamed that I could fly and then we did!" Peter confirmed. "And two weeks ago I dreamed about a guy breaking into a laboratory and stealing blood samples and the next day I overheard dad talking about it on the phone. It happened! Please, Nathan! You have to believe me!"

Nathan blinked some more and let out a sigh. "Okay, say that I do believe you. Can I go back to sleep now? I have an important meeting tomorrow and…"

"Nathan! Don't you understand?" Peter pulled away the bedcovers and tried to take hold of his brother's arm again. "That house we saw in the picture earlier today, it's burning down! The blond girl and the baby… your baby!"

Finally Nathan seemed to get what Peter was trying to tell him. He jumped up from the bed and started looking for his cell phone.

"Damn, it," he swore when the phone slipped from his trembling hands. He picked it up again.

"What are you doing? Come on, we have to…" Peter had grabbed a pair of jeans from the dresser and threw them at Nathan. Then he dashed over to the window and opened it. Nathan, with one leg halfway into the jeans, was hit by the night's fresh air as if it was a sledgehammer and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Peter, what…?" He stared at the boy and noticed for the first time that Peter was already fully dressed in trousers, jacket and shoes. He'd even remembered to put a scarf around his neck. Nathan gasped: "You can't be serious, Pete! You don't expect us to fly to Texas, do you?"

"Of course, come on! We have to hurry!" Peter climbed onto the windowsill and threw a look down before turning around again. Nathan rushed up to him and closed a steady hand on the younger boy's arm. "Peter, stop! You're insane! You can't just jump out of a window!"

"I'm not jumping, Nathan, I'm flying. With you, so hurry up."

"No," Nathan shook his head in refusal. No, he wouldn't climb out of his bedroom window and… just, no. A quick fly around the Statue of Liberty was one thing but… flying all the way down to Texas? No way! There was nothing Peter could say that would…

Dark eyes locked with his. "Nathan, she's your daughter!"

Damn it! Trust Peter to name the one thing that would convince him to go along with this stupid plan.

Nathan grabbed a sweater and pulled it over his head. Then he looked around for shoes but when he couldn't find any he shrugged and joined Peter on the windowsill, still barefoot and struggling with his fly.

"You're absolutely sure, Pete?" Nathan asked although he already knew the answer. Peter wouldn't joke about something like this.

"Yes, I am. I saw it. I just hope we're not too late. The fire…"

"Alright, let's go." Nathan took hold of Peter's arm and together they started counting.

"One, two, three, now!"

They spread their arms and jumped in unison, Nathan pulling Peter along in what he thought should be the right direction.

Shit, maybe they should have thought to bring along a compass? How were they supposed to find their way through the cloudy night? Well, Texas was somewhat south, wasn't it?

So into the south they would fly.

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Kermit, Texas, February 26__th__ 1992_

The night was slowly fading away into first gray and then orange morning light and Noah Bennet was watching the sunrise through a shabby window of the small motel room that he and his partner Claude Rains had booked for the night. Not that they'd needed it, but… being prepared for all eventualities was clearly a good thing, wasn't it? Better safe than sorry.

Speaking of sorry, the motel room was in a truly sorry state and had probably seen better days. Or years. The wallpapers once could have been a decent cream-color but were now faded and peeling off in places. The sparse furniture showed scratches and marks of long-time use.

But Bennet didn't spare a single thought on the run-down state of his surroundings, he was more than used to it by now. In the year since he'd started working for the company he'd spent his nights in many different places, first-class suites as well as shabby road motels.

And Bennet had gradually come to understand that better sleeping accommodations didn't necessarily result in better sleep. That mostly depended on the kind of mission he and his partner had been assigned to do.

The mission was the important thing and this time… he let out a frustrated sigh and put his phone back into his pocket while he waited for Claude to come out of the shabby en-suite bathroom.

This time it hadn't gone quite as planned. Or, as Claude had stated earlier in his usual mocking tone, they'd bloody bollixed it up.

'_Bring in the fire-starter,'_ had been the order. It should have been simple enough. But then… nobody had cared to tell them that the fire-starter was in fact the mother of a small child. It had complicated matters quite a bit because the moment the woman had felt her little girl was threatened she'd turned homicidal and had started throwing balls of fire. He and Claude had barely managed to leave the blazing inferno before the whole block had come crashing down.

And now the company had a burned-down apartment block and several witnesses left to deal with. Not to mention the small fact that the fire-starter still wasn't bagged and tagged.

Thompson, their superior, hadn't been happy when he'd told him just now. No, not happy at all.

The door to the bathroom opened and Claude stepped out, dark blond hair still damp from the shower he'd just taken to get the grime and burnt smell off.

He shot Bennet a questioning glance.

"They want us to go back for the kid," Bennet sighed and stood up from the bed.

"Why?"

"If the child survived the mother will come back for her. We are to take her down then." Bennet picked up his gun from the table and put it back into the holster he was wearing.

"Nobody could have survived that crashing roof, let alone the blazing fire, and you know it," Claude raised a single eyebrow. Then his lips formed a smirk. "Though I guess we can just as well bag her when she's weeping over the wee little body, can't we?"

Bennet simply nodded and opened the front door. Then he motioned for Claude to follow him out.

'Catching the fire-starter, second attempt,' he thought grimly and closed the door.

* * *

Nathan and Peter stood in the exact same spot the pictures they'd seen earlier had been taken from. Some time during their flight the sun had risen and the eastern sky had slowly turned from shadowy gray to orange. Now bright rays of morning light flittered through some gaps between the apartment blocks at their back and illuminated the scene in front of them.

A scene that should have been familiar from the pictures.

But it was not; Nathan could only stare on in paralyzed shock. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight.

Where once had stood a long row of shabby white apartment blocks there was now a gaping hole full of ashes, wreckage and dust. The burned-down place was braced on the right by another half-crumbled house and Nathan could clearly make out the broken-off remains of several apartments. There was even half a bed balancing on the edge of what must have been a wall.

"Oh God," he heard Peter gasp by his side but couldn't spare a glance. He was still too busy taking everything in. The smoke, the crushed roof, the burnt piles of what he could only assume had been furniture, or worse…

Suddenly the noise from around started to pierce Nathan's hazy brain. He noticed people screaming and shouting and several fire engines and ambulances giving off their blaring alarm. Policemen were busy blocking off the scene with yellow tape, all the while ushering nosy gawkers out of the way.

"Stand back, please!" someone shouted to Nathan's right and he saw two paramedics carry off the lifeless body of an old man. His eyes followed them to a corner where, to Nathan's shock, several other bodies had already been laid down. The paramedics placed a sheet over the old man.

Oh God, what if Meredith…

Nathan briefly placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Pete, you stay here, okay?"

"Where are you going?" Peter asked but Nathan simply shook his head and slowly made his way over to the corner.

He had to see for himself whether Meredith was one of the victims. And the baby, oh God… the baby.

"Excuse me," a middle-aged police officer suddenly appeared by Nathan's side. "You have to step back behind the tape."

"No, I…" Nathan shook the officer's hand from his arm and walked on. "I need to know…"

"Do you live here?"

Nathan shook his head. "Meredith and the baby, I need to…"

"Meredith Gordon, Apartment 3d?" the officer asked after he'd thrown a quick look at the list in his hands.

"Yes," Nathan blenched visibly and tried to glimpse onto the list. "Is she…"

"Are you family?"

"No, I'm… well, I'm the baby's father," Nathan finally stated. "Now tell me, are they…?"

"They're not on the list of victims… yet."

Nathan glared at the officer who simply shrugged. "We haven't been able to locate all the residents yet. Do you know if Ms. Gordon was perhaps staying somewhere else for the night? Do you know if she was home?"

"I wouldn't be here now if I knew that she'd been somewhere else, would I?" Nathan ground out.

"Right, sorry," the officer relented and took a step back. "We're doing the best we can, son. You have to wait over there with the others if you…"

He broke off helplessly when Nathan simply shook his head and walked back to where he'd left Peter.

"They haven't found Meredith or the baby," Nathan told his brother when he'd finally suited up to him. Peter had been walking around the taped-off area and was now standing in what had been some kind of back yard only yesterday.

"Pete?"

"Did you hear that, Nathan?" Peter suddenly asked and turned his head to the left as if listening closely. It was decidedly quieter here, the busy noise from the front was held off by half-crumbled ruins and a thick wall of dust. They were also mostly sheltered from view. Nathan tried to take a clear breath but only got a mouthful of grime.

"What," he coughed.

"I thought I'd… there!" Peter rushed forward into the ruins and, stumbling over debris and broken concrete, suddenly crouched down next to the remains of a ceramic bathtub. Nathan followed, careful of the rubble under his bare feet, and stared at the ground in front of his brother.

"Oh my God," he gasped.

Peeking out from under dirty piles of burnt clothes and completely covered in ash there was… a small face staring back at him. A baby-girl's face, blue eyes large and smeared with grime.

"Oh God," Nathan repeated, "is she…"

Peter was carefully wiping the dust off the tiny body. "She's moving, Nathan. I don't think she's hurt." He cleared away the rubble and checked out the baby from head to toe. The small girl's blue eyes followed his every move and then she stretched out a chubby hand and took hold of Peter's finger. "I think she's fine, Nathan. See? She's fine!" Peter smiled up to him.

* * *

Bennet and Claude arrived at the burned-down apartment block and, avoiding the cops and the nosy bystanders altogether, quickly made their way over to the backside. They both moved nearly without a sound, they had been trained in stealth as well as combat after all.

Suddenly Claude stopped and squinted at something between the ruins. "There's someone there," he announced and pointed forward. Bennet's eyes followed his hand and he noticed two men, or possibly one man and a boy, considering the slightly smaller form, next to a broken bathtub.

"Well, I'd say that's less than ideal," he stated calmly. "But nothing we won't be able to handle."

He started walking again and Claude fell in beside him. "You want me to…?" he waved his hands in some kind of shooing motion.

"Yeah, I guess it would be best if I were to approach these young men alone," Bennet smiled coldly. "You could, I don't know… keep your eyes open for any signs of the baby, or the mother."

"Bingo," Claude announced quietly only seconds later. Bennet turned towards him but… his partner had already pulled his little trick and had become invisible to his eyes. "Great," Bennet muttered under his breath, careful not to give his presence away. "What did he mean by that?"

The question answered itself the next minute when Bennet further approached the two figures between the rubble. There, next to the bathtub, was a small baby-girl, apparently unharmed and well.

Bennet allowed himself a satisfied smile and quietly walked on.

* * *

Nathan could only stare down at the baby in shock. Was this his daughter? Was it possible that she could have survived this catastrophe? How? Meredith's apartment had been on the top floor as far as he knew, so the girl must have fallen down at least twelve meters when the building had come crashing down. And what about the flames? How could anyone survive a fire this big?

"Hey you," Nathan heard Peter softly speak to the baby-girl. "Everything's gonna be alright. You're fine, aren't you? We got you now."

Peter was about to lift the girl onto his lap when he noticed a small silver bracelet around her tiny wrist.

"What's this?" He asked the girl and leaned closer. The delicate letters on the bracelet were barely readable.

"Claire," Peter read surprised. "Is that your name? Yes? Nathan, look, her name's Claire." Then he turned back to the girl and smiled brightly. "Hello Claire, I'm Peter, yes, Peter." Baby-Claire smiled back, showing two pearly-white teeth in the process. Peter went on: "And I guess I'm your uncle. And that," he pointed towards Nathan, "yes, Claire, that's your daddy. He came to rescue you, you know? Your daddy came for you."

Nathan was about to reply something when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching through the ruins. He looked up and noticed someone standing a few feet away. The tall man, possibly in his early thirties, was staring down at the two kids for a second before he lifted his head and fixed Nathan with clear blue eyes.

Nathan was suddenly reminded of a pair of old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses but he blinked the stray thought away and faced the man.

"Who are you?" the stranger asked, not unfriendly but somehow too calm considering the strange situation. He sounded not at all surprised to see a man in jeans and sweater, barefoot and with a boy and a baby in tow, amongst the ruins of a burned-down building. As if it was an everyday-sight.

Nathan walked over to the stranger, subconsciously shielding Peter and the baby from the man's view, and tried to come up with an innocent smile.

"Hello, ugh… sorry, are you a detective?" he asked bewildered when he noticed the man wasn't wearing a police uniform. Instead he was dressed in what must have been a very expensive business suit. Expensive, impeccable and kind of misplaced with all the rubbish and destruction around.

"We got the situation under control, Mr…."

"Petrelli," Nathan supplied automatically. "Nathan Petrelli."

The man's eyes seemed to narrow a tad but then he looked all calm and indifferent again.

"Mr. Petrelli, you probably know that you're traipsing around a current crime scene, don't you? You shouldn't be here at all." He threw a quick assessing look over to the cops in the distance. They were still trying to shush away a gaping crowd.

"I'm sorry," Nathan quickly replied, "my brother and I were just…" He turned around to Peter and the baby…

And did a double-take. Peter was gone!

"Peter?" Nathan shouted out and his eyes scanned the ruins in panic. Where had he gone? "Peter!" he cried again.

"What, Nathan," Peter's voice suddenly came from directly behind. Nathan rushed around but saw nobody.

"Peter, where are you?" He couldn't have just disappeared, could he?

"Nathan!" Peter's voice answered, "What's wrong?"

Nathan felt the panic rise in his guts and then… everything happened very fast.

Later on he would swear to God that he'd heard the stranger say something like "Take her and make sure she stays quiet. I'll handle him," right before it had happened but for the moment Nathan couldn't be sure of anything. All he knew was that one minute he'd been trying to detect any sign of Peter and he'd sure as hell seen the baby-girl lying on the ground, happily waving her chubby arms.

And then Peter's voice had suddenly sounded outraged. "What are you doing? Let her go! Nathan, he's… hey, stop! Come back!"

Nathan had heard the noises but hadn't seen anything. It had sounded like an invisible struggle was taking place, debris and dust had been flying around and he'd heard footsteps and Peter's angry voice crying out.

"Come back!"

"Peter, where are you?" Nathan had been terrified. What was happening here?

And the next minute Peter had miraculously reappeared ten foot away at the edge of the ruins although how he'd gotten there Nathan couldn't tell.

"He took her away, Nathan! We have to follow him!" Peter had cried and that's when Nathan had noticed the baby… Claire… was gone.

All this had happened in a span of mere seconds and Nathan hadn't even had time to blink. Now he did, and he took a shuddering breath and lifted his eyes to the stranger. The tall man just stood there, staring at Nathan with blue eyes void of any emotion.

"What… what the hell just happened?" Nathan stuttered and glared at him.

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Petrelli. We were only talking, weren't we?"

Nathan balled his hands into fists and ground out: "Where's the baby? What did you do to her?"

"Pardon?" the man frowned. "What baby?"

Peter had come back to them, climbing over rubble in haste. Struggling for breath he puffed out: "Nathan, he took Claire and ran away!"

As much as Nathan wanted to believe his brother, he knew that the man hadn't done anything to Claire. He hadn't even moved at all. "Peter, he's been standing here the whole time. He didn't…"

"No, not him," Peter fell in, "I meant the other one."

"Other one?" Nathan frowned. "What other one, Peter? There was nobody else!"

Finally Peter seemed to catch on to the fact that something was terribly wrong here. He threw a burning glare at the still quiet stranger.

"There was someone with you earlier! I saw him! What did he do to make Nathan not see him? And what did you do to me just now? Why couldn't Nathan see me either? And where did he take Claire?"

The man completely ignored Peter's outburst and addressed Nathan instead:

"Mr. Petrelli, I assure you once again that the situation is completely under control. You should take that boy with you and go."

"That boy's my brother and you've just made him invisible somehow! I wanna know what's going on! And what did you fucking do to my daughter?" Nathan could barely control his voice. He couldn't believe that this was happening.

"Your daughter?" For the first time the man's face showed some kind of emotion. Something like surprise followed by regret flickered through the blue eyes but it was gone quickly again.

"You should go talk to one of the officers over there," the man pointed towards the front of the ruins and took a few steps back. "I'm sure they're doing everything possible to find and identify the victims of this sad tragedy."

"Now just wait a minute," Nathan shouted and stumbled after the man. He grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around again. "The baby was right there and then… I don't know how, but you took her, you son of a bitch! I want my daughter back, or else…"

"Or else what?" The man pulled free and looked him straight in the eyes. "You're gonna tell the cops that I miraculously made your brother disappear and my invisible partner kidnapped a baby? A baby that somehow survived this burning hell without a scratch? Yeah, right. Go do that, and good luck with it."

"I could kidnap you instead," Nathan thought out loud. "Or I could just kill you right now." He picked up a charred piece of wood from the ground, possibly part of a burnt cupboard, and menacingly swung it through the air.

The man simply sent him a cold look. "Threatening me, or even killing me, won't bring her back to you." He suddenly pulled a gun from inside his suit and, carefully hiding it from public view, pointed it in Peter's direction in a flash.

Everything happened so quickly that Nathan didn't even have time to gasp in shock. He let the wood clatter out of his hands and sprang forward to push Peter out of the gun's way. Then he stared at the man with hatred burning in his eyes, not daring to move but breathing harshly.

"It's good to know that you value your brother's life even more than your own," the man nodded in approval. Then he simply turned around and started walking away. "Because if you try to follow me I'll make sure to aim for him. And, Mr. Petrelli," he threw a casual look over his shoulder, "I know how to shoot straight."

Nathan didn't reply but watched the man go until he'd reached the street. He disappeared somewhere among the crowd.

"Nathan?" Peter placed a tentative hand onto his brothers arm. "Are you okay?"

"I… I don't know, Pete." Nathan replied confused.

What the hell had just happened here? Who had that been? And what had he done to make the baby disappear? And what about Peter? Why hadn't he been able to see him earlier? Had there really been another man, invisible somehow, that had taken Claire?

"I really don't know," Nathan repeated slowly and then steered Peter out of the burned-down ruins. The two brothers made their way back over to the front of the burnt apartment block and Nathan searched among the cops for the one he'd talked to earlier.

The friendly officer had no news for him since the paramedics were still busy locating victims in the ruins. But Meredith Gordon hadn't shown up yet, neither amongst the dead nor the wounded.

"Perhaps she spent the night somewhere else after all," the cop tried to give Nathan hope. Nathan forced himself to nod although inwardly he knew better. Meredith wouldn't have left her daughter alone over night, would she? And since Claire had been there…

No, chances of Meredith showing up unharmed were more than slim and Nathan was afraid she'd turn up on the list of victims sooner or later. He left his address for the cop and asked to be notified as soon as they'd have news.

Then he took Peter by the shoulder and led him to a secluded area from where they would be able to fly away undetected. There was nothing left for them here, was there?

The man had been right earlier, and Nathan knew it. He couldn't tell the police what had happened and he certainly couldn't tell them about Claire. Oh hell, he couldn't even explain what he'd been doing amongst the ruins in the first place, so how should he tell the cops Claire had been abducted by a man and his invisible partner? Yeah right, Nathan could clearly see the police officer's face if he were to tell him that.

No, Nathan thought dejected, there was nothing left for him to do but go home.

* * *

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Well, I'd say that's a rather interesting turn of events." Bennet commented dryly. He and Claude had just returned from the burnt site to their motel room, a sleeping baby-girl in their arms and a lot of questions on their minds.

Claude put the small girl carefully onto the bed before he looked up. "Interesting? I'd say bloody inconvenient is what it was! I thought my neat little trick had somehow stopped working when the boy suddenly came after me. How come he could see me, what do you think? And you were able to hear him still, weren't you? How come you never hear **me** when I'm invisible? Admit it, mate, you've been ignoring me all this time, laughing your arse off behind my back, hm?"

Bennet sent him a stern glare but didn't lower himself to an answer. He was by now more than used to Claude's biting sarcasm. Right now Bennet was much more interested in finding out how the boy had been able to absorb part of Claude's ability somehow.

He voiced his thoughts on that and Claude replied stunned: "You think he copied me? Just like that?"

"I don't know," Bennet shrugged, "maybe he's some sort of…"

"An ability-magnet?" Claude supplied when Bennet left the sentence unfinished. "Never heard of that before!"

"Neither have I, but then again," Bennet shrugged, "before I started working for the company I hadn't heard of any of this! Invisible men, walking flame-throwers, people with the ability of levitation, telekinesis or spontaneous regeneration… that's all rather abnormal and completely foreign to me. God only knows what _you people_ are capable of."

"Didn't take you for one of those believing in God's greater plan for all of this."

"I'm not," Bennet's voice was firm and doubtless. "If God had anything to do with it he would have thought twice before he let _them _loose on the world."

"Oh thanks, mate!" Claude fixed his partner with a glare. "I feel all warm and fuzzy hearing you condemn the whole lot of us. You make me feel as welcome as a bloody disease! Like leprosy!"

"You know I didn't mean it like that," Bennet looked partly apologetic and partly impatient, as if he was sick and tired of this particular discussion. And he truly was, he and Claude had talked about it like a hundred times already, and they were still not seeing eye to eye on this. And they probably never would.

Suddenly the baby began to cry and Claude went over to the bed to sit down next to her. He tickled her under the chin and tried to make her laugh again. Bennet just stood there watching him.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked after a second.

"Wrong? Nothing I suppose. Apart from the fact that she's just survived hell and her mom's dead and she probably needs a change in diapers." Claude smirked up to Bennet.

"Diapers? Oh, ugh…" Bennet turned away and pulled his cell out of his pocket. "Take care of her, yeah? I'm gonna call Thompson to give our report."

"Bloody coward," Claude muttered and watched Bennet leave the room. Then he picked up the girl and carried her into the bathroom.

After he'd bathed and changed her (which had been more than necessary) Claude returned to the bedroom to find Bennet already packing his suitcase.

"We are to take her to New York," he announced. "Thompson said arrangements for adoption have already been made by Mr. Nakamura himself. We're gonna meet him at Charles Deveaux tomorrow."

"Nakamura made arrangements?" Claude frowned and then he whispered into the baby-girl's ear: "Aren't you little 'Miss Very-Important', hm, if Nakamura took care of it himself."

"Well, if that Petrelli-guy is truly her father, then…" Bennet raised one eyebrow.

"What, you think the order came from Angela Petrelli?" Claude pondered the fact for a moment. "Why would she want us to take pyro-woman out of the picture? And baby-girl here? You think she knew about her?"

Bennet just shrugged again. "I don't know any more than you do, Claude. And I guess it's not our business to ask questions. We follow orders, remember? No matter who they're from."

"Bennet, the good little poster-boy for the company," Claude smirked. Then he turned serious again. "What about the boy?"

"What about him?"

"You're gonna tell Thompson that he's some sort of magnet or sponge or whatever? That he turned invisible just by being near me?"

Bennet thought about it for a moment. If he'd tell his superiors about the boy's ability they'd want him brought in next, wouldn't they? The company's goal was to identify and evaluate everyone of _them_. And it was his job to help them do it.

So the boy should be brought in. But, Bennet thought further, if he was a Petrelli, wasn't it likely he was already tagged? If he was Angela Petrelli's son…

Nothing happened in that woman's proximity that she didn't know of, of that Bennet was more than sure. He'd met her just once, but that one time had been enough to tell him that she was thorough. She and her husband had done more good for the company than all the other founders combined.

No, Bennet decided, it wasn't his place to intervene. Young Petrelli probably was already known and tagged by the company. Probably even since before his birth.

Eventually he shook his head and said: "The boy is not our concern and we'd best not mention him or his brother at all. We are to deliver the obtained goods, nothing more."

"You want me to call U.P.S.?"

"What?" Bennet shot Claude a shocked glare but the other man just laughed. "God, Bennet! You made it sound like she were a bloody parcel! 'Deliver obtained goods', my arse! She's a kid, rookie."

"I told you to stop calling me that!" Bennet glared at him. "And I know that she's a kid."

"No, you don't. And I'll go on calling you rookie for as long as you behave like a sodding one! You haven't even looked at her! Or held her!" Claude had picked the baby up from the bed and now held her out for Bennet to take. "Look at that tiny face with those big blue eyes! Look at her, Bennet!"

Bennet stared at the kid for a second before he shook his head. "I looked, okay? Now you take her. We don't want her to cry all the way to New York, do we? Come on, our flight's booked for eleven." Bennet grabbed his suitcase from the bed and also picked up Claude's bag. Then he stepped out into the morning sun and, blocking out Claude's amused mutterings on the way, walked up to where they'd parked the car.

* * *

Two days later, back in New York, Nathan was once again asked into his parents' study by his mother. Angela gave her son a brief sad smile before she handed him an expose cut from a newspaper.

"I'm sorry, Nathan," was all she said before she kissed him on the head and left him to read the article.

_**APARTMENT**_

_ **FIRE KILLS 7**_

_Friday, February 28, 1992_

_Roxana Castello_

_Staff Writer_

_**Kermit, Texas **– Seven people were_

_killed, including a woman, Meredith_

_Gordon, and her 18 month old_

_daughter in an apartment fire_

_Thursday night, officials said._

_The late night blaze ripped_

_through several apartments…_

There was no need for him to read on. Nathan let go of the article and rubbed his hands over tired eyes, the neglected paper sliding slowly to the floor. Meredith was dead, the paper said. And Claire?

His little daughter was presumed to have died in the fire as well, but Nathan knew better.

"God only knows what that son of a bitch did to her," he sighed and swore to himself that he'd do everything in his power to find out the truth. And if he'd ever see that man again… the bastard wouldn't have a chance to draw his gun for a second time.

Nathan swore there and then that he would kill him first.

* * *

As ordered Bennet and Claude had brought the baby-girl to New York and had just deposited her in Kaito Nakamura's arms.

And… well, frankly speaking, Bennet was more than glad to be finally rid of the kid. Not that she'd made any problems during the flight, no. She'd slept through most of it and had cried next to none. And when she'd been awake Claude had taken care of her.

The passengers on the flight had naturally assumed her to be Claude's daughter. And that had left Bennet pondering the question what they'd thought him to be. He'd not imagined the curious stares the trio had received. Some people had sent knowing smiles in their direction and Bennet had even heard a few whispered "Oh, look! What a cute little family they make!"

It's not that Bennet had anything against same sex couples. As far as he cared gays should have the same rights relating to kids and family anybody else had. Everyone their own, or what was the saying again? He had nothing against gays at all, he just didn't want to be mistaken for one. Being partnered off with someone as openly gay as Claude had led to many awkward situations regarding that already, Bennet didn't care to add extra to that. That's all!

Thinking of, Bennet looked around for his partner and noticed their boss walking purposefully up to them.

"Claude, a word please," Thompson motioned for Claude to follow him. Bennet was left standing on the spacious balcony of the Deveaux building that overlooked most of New York with Kaito Nakamura. The man had his back turned to him.

A beeping sound drew Bennet's attention to the young Asian boy of around eight that was playing a video game at the table. The boy didn't look up, he was lost in whatever adventure game was currently running on the display.

Bennet walked up to Nakamura and cleared his throat to make his presence known. The elder man turned around and asked in Japanese: "No sign of the mother?"

Bennet swiftly fell into Japanese, too. "We think she died in the fire." The beeping sound from the video game caught his attention again. "Your son?"

Nakamura made a confirming sound before he said: "I understand you have no children."

"That's correct."

"Having children changes a man." Bennet shrugged non-committal. "I can only imagine."

"You don't have to imagine," Nakamura's hard eyes bore into Bennet. "You're going to ... adopt the baby as your own."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Bennet quickly rejected but Nakamura would hear none of it. "It's not a request. You and your wife have been trying to conceive. Yes?"

"Unsuccessfully. And frankly, I'm relieved. I don't think I'd be a very good father." Bennet tried to explain but Nakamura once again rebuffed: "Once again, not a request." He stepped forward and placed the baby into a stunned Bennet's arms. "Don't get too close," the elder man advised then. "You're only her surrogate father. She belongs to us."

Bennet looked at the baby-girl, who had put her hand on his chin and was looking up at him kind of questioningly. He tried to give her a small smile and suddenly the girl's eyes went wide and a tentative smile formed on her lips. The smile quickly turned into a huge yawn and her eyes drooped and only seconds later she snuggled into Bennet's arms, thump stuck in her mouth and without a care in the world.

Bennet was stunned by this unexpected and undeserved display of trust and he had to clear his suddenly very dry throat.

"If she manifests, we'll take her," Nakamura stated and waited for Bennet to confirm.

"Of course," Bennet looked up quickly. He managed to nod somewhat overwhelmed and watched Nakamura leave. His young son followed hastily.

Bennet stood there with the baby-girl in his arms, feeling completely out of his depths, until Claude walked up to him. He supplied "Happy Father's Day," in fluent Japanese and for once without any sign of his trademark sarcasm.

And for the first time in days Bennet allowed himself a genuine smile.

* * *

Shortly afterwards they were asked inside the Deveaux building again and there, under the watchful eyes of Thompson and with Claude's encouraging smile, Bennet signed the fully set-up adoption papers. As of now he was the legal parent of one Claire Bennet, 18 months old former orphan.

Before he'd finalized the contract by his signature however, Bennet had voiced his two greatest worries, the first being how he was supposed to explain all this to his wife.

But that one had been carelessly waved away by Thompson. 'You'll think of something,' the man had simply smirked. The company had done its part by arranging this adoption and now it was Bennet's turn to take over and make sure his wife Sandra believed in the genuineness of it all.

He hadn't known how to convince his wife just yet but he needn't have to worry about the legality of the adoption, Bennet had realized after a closer look at the adoption papers. The contract was tightly knit and there wasn't a chance in hell that it would rise any problems or even doubts among legal authorities. No one would ever suspect the papers to be anything but genuine. They were legally signed by Mr. Henry Stevenson, 'Head of Department of Adoption and Child Care in the State Texas'. And that was that.

The other concern that had gnawed at Bennet ever since Nakamura had placed the girl into his arms hadn't been waved away quite so easily though.

"What about the father?" Bennet had dared to ask Thompson.

"I thought you quite capable of reading, Bennet. Was I mistaken?" Thompson had smirked. "**You** are the girl's father."

"I meant the biological father, Nathan Petrelli."

Bennet had realized his mistake the second the words had left his mouth. Thompson's brow had lifted up and he'd looked for once genuinely surprised. And suspicious as hell.

"How do you know that name?" he'd asked immediately.

"The woman," Claude had taken over without hesitation, "the mother mentioned that name right before she tried to blow us apart with her fire-balls."

"Did she?" Thompson's voice had still carried suspicion. "You conveniently forgot to mention that fact in your report."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it important. But yes, the mother mentioned him," Bennet had confirmed steadfastly, determined to keep their encounter with both Petrelli boys under wrap. "And I just thought that, I don't know… what if he doesn't believe the baby died in the fire? What if he starts investigating? If he tries to find her, I need to be sure that there's nothing possibly pointing him to me. Or to the company at all."

"Don't worry, that man will be thoroughly convinced of his daughter's tragic death. And by the way," Thompson had added, "he can't have cared much for the baby to begin with or else he wouldn't have left before her birth."

"That sounds about right," Bennet had nodded and eventually had taken hold of the offered pen to put his signature under the contract.

His steady hand had betrayed nothing of the nervous feeling that had overcome him there and then. It would surely take some time to get used to this new situation.

Eventually Bennet had put down the pen and had looked up from the papers, taking a deep breath into his tight lungs.

"Once again, congratulations, my friend!" Claude smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "You're a daddy now!"

'And I'm gonna try everything to be a good one,' Bennet thought with a grin that lasted until Thompson reminded him: "A surrogate daddy, until the company takes her back."

Bennet's smile faltered. "If she manifests."

"If? I'd rather say **when** she manifests," Thompson corrected. "With a Petrelli as father there's no doubt about her developing some sort of ability sooner rather than later. That family-tree is littered with mentions of _them_!"

Bennet had walked over to where the baby-girl, his daughter, lay in a small crib and he'd picked her up then, secretly wishing it to be later, or preferably never. He'd come to care for this little girl already, never mind that he hadn't wanted any children ever only two days ago. Now that he all of a sudden had one he vowed to protect her with his life.

Even if that meant he'd have to hide her from the company.

* * *

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm sorry that this chapter turned out so short and I promise you there's more to come soon. So please, stay with me._

**Chapter Five**

Bennet returned to Texas with Claire on yet the very same day, happy to be granted a few days without an assignment to settle into the new situation.

And although he hadn't known what to tell his wife until the minute he'd set foot into his home with Claire sleeping in his arms, the situation solved itself quite naturally.

Sandra had come to welcome him as usual, had startled briefly at the sight, and then Claire had suddenly woken up from her nap and with her soft crying had taken immediate reigns on the situation.

The genetically programmed mother-instinct in every woman kicked in straight away and Sandra took the bundle of child from her husband's arms without so much as a word.

Instead she carried the girl into the living room and cradled her in her lap, making shooing notions and calming the upset Claire in a matter of seconds. Bennet followed her silently and watched his wife whisper soft words of nonsense into the baby's ear until big blue eyes stared up at her in curious but content silence.

Only then Sandra dared to take her eyes off the girl to throw a questioning glance at her husband. He was leaning against the doorframe, hands buried deep in the pockets of his suit, with a look on his face mirroring every emotion possible. Insecurity and nervousness showed clearly but underneath all that Sandra detected hope, love and a longing she'd rarely seen him display so openly.

She was instantly reminded of the bright summer's day more than eight years ago, when the geeky nerd he'd been then had finally found the courage to corner her on campus after class to ask her out for the first time. He'd been so nervous then, so apprehensive and sure of her rejection, and yet he'd radiated so much hope when she hadn't rebuffed him immediately. She had been able to watch the confidence grow in him with every second she kept listening to his nervous babbling and when she'd eventually agreed to go out with him… the sheer joy had brightened his eyes to an electrifying blue that she hadn't been able to resist ever since.

Just like Sandra knew she wouldn't be able to resist now, whatever it was her husband wanted to achieve by pulling this little stunt, showing up here like this. And, Sandra looked down into the girl's blue eyes again, if it involved this little angel here she knew he had already won her over.

And so did he, obviously. Bennet kept watching his wife a little longer before he finally made his way over to her side. He crouched down next to the armchair she was sitting in and, taking hold of her free hand, squeezed it affectionately. His other hand had unconsciously made it onto Claire's head and he was stroking the girl's short fluffy curls.

"Sandra, meet Claire Bennet. Our daughter."

Sandra looked up astonished. "Our… what? I mean, honey… how?"

"This sweet little girl was left without parents two days ago and I couldn't bring it over myself to give her to an orphanage… I just couldn't give her away, Sandra," Bennet admitted quietly.

"Of course you couldn't, you big softy!" Sandra smiled back and leaned over the baby to give her husband a loving kiss. "Who could abandon a sweet angel like you, hm, Claire? But… what about the authorities? I mean, you can't just take a baby and…"

"It's all settled already," Bennet looked apprehensive again. "You just have to sign the adoption papers and then… she's gonna be our legal daughter."

"Really?"

"Really, promise," Bennet smiled and kissed his wife again. "Claire, this is your mommy."

Baby-Claire looked at Sandra as if she'd understood every word Bennet had said.

"Well, then I suppose this, Claire, is your daddy." Sandra's voice nearly cracked with sudden emotion. "And we will both love you and take care of you the best we can."

Claire's eyes traveled to Bennet then, Bennet who smiled at his wife and daughter in turn.

They were a family.

* * *

The first few days with the baby had been anything but a walk in the park. Although he was off work Bennet had felt tense and on high alert all the time. It was just too weird, suddenly there was someone besides himself and Sandra to think of, there was this tiny person demanding all his attention.

The baby needed to be clothed and fed and changed and bathed, it was one of those things twenty-four-seven. And then there'd been the furniture Bennet had had to buy for the newly-installed nursery. He hadn't known just how many things a baby needed!

When two weeks had passed without any grave incident (like accidentally drowning the baby in the bath or such horrors he'd read of) Bennet had nearly been glad to go back to work. He'd thought that maybe, hopefully, life would calm down a little then, perhaps even go back to normal. But… well, it didn't.

In all of his thirty years Bennet had never thought of himself as a person who worried too much. He simply hadn't been one of those, full-stop. But that had been before.

These days, with thoughts about his little daughter constantly on his mind, Bennet was hard-pressed not to butcher up his work completely. He'd been sent onto easy assignments only, and even those he'd nearly failed. If it hadn't been for Claude, his steady partner who'd shown more sensibility for his situation than Bennet would ever have given him credit for, Thompson would surely have had his ass on a platter many times already.

Claude had turned out to be a true friend, pulling him out of his thoughts when a sharp mind had been vital and listening to his complains about sleepless nights without ever showing signs of boredom or, worse, annoyance. The Englishman had even supplied a lot of helpful suggestions considering child care in general and medical advise in particular. He could even occasionally be seen playing with Claire in the newly-erected sand-box in the Bennet's garden.

All in all Claude had turned out to be the best surrogate uncle Claire could have asked for, if she had been able to voice such a complex demand yet, that is.

She had started talking, hesitantly at first and then babbling more and more without inhibition, a few weeks after she'd come to live with them and Bennet would never forget the morning Claire had greeted him, arms outstretched and ready to be lifted from the bed, with her first: "Daddy!"

He'd never felt more proud and joyful in his life.

His happiness couldn't even be diminished by the fact that, if he were to believe Claude's word, Claire had apparently uttered the word "Claw" two days before she'd said "Daddy".

Pah, Claw wasn't even a proper word, was it? And it certainly didn't mean Claude, like his partner wanted to believe.

No, Bennet thought proudly, 'daddy' had definitely been Claire Bennet's first proper word.

* * *

Nathan Petrelli slammed down the phone and pulled at his hair in frustration. That had been yet another dead end. How the hell was it even possible that not one of the many people he'd hired in the last few weeks, simply none of them had been capable of finding out anything about his daughter's whereabouts?

"A baby-girl can't just fucking disappear from the face of the earth like that!" Nathan shook his head in despair.

"The cops all think she died in the fire," Peter supplied cautiously and Nathan looked up surprised. He hadn't even heard his brother come into the room.

"But that's not true!"

"I know, but… maybe the invisible man made her invisible too," Peter suggested his suspicions.

"That's just crazy, Pete, and you know it!"

"It's not, Nathan!" The boy jumped up from the edge of the bed. "He did it to me somehow, remember? Who knows what kind of powers he has!"

"Powers?" Nathan frowned.

"Yeah, you know," Peter hesitated just slightly, "like us. We can fly, Nathan! Or have you forgotten already?" A small sliver of annoyance had crept into Peter's voice. Ever since that dreadful day in Texas Nathan had ignored their ability completely. He hadn't wanted to go flying again and he hadn't even allowed Peter to mention it. It was as if his brother somehow believed their ability had caused them to lose Baby-Claire and that if he'd forget all about it and pretended it didn't exist, it would somehow make things right again. Yeah, as if!

"I wish I could forget about it, Pete. I really do!" Nathan's voice was barely audible.

"But why, Nathan?" Peter desperately wanted to know. "It's not like it's a bad thing, is it? And you can't expect everything to just be fine again if you stop using your powers."

"Why the hell not, Pete?" Nathan suddenly shouted enraged. He stood up from his desk and paced in long strides over to where Peter stood. Leaning close down to his brother's anxious face Nathan's voice went deadly quiet. "Tell me, Peter. What good do you expect will ever come from flying around? Will it miraculously return some kind of sense into my fucked-up life? I lost my daughter, Pete! You can't possibly begin to understand how that makes me feel!"

"No, but…" Peter wanted to put a reassuring hand onto Nathan's arm but his brother pulled away and turned around to stare out of the window. "What's it worth to be able to fly if it can't give me back my daughter?" he whispered devastated.

Peter had no answer to that. He watched Nathan's back for a while before he turned around and left the room, ignoring his brother's softly shaking shoulders for the sake of Nathan's dignity.

He had more important things to think of right now. Maybe flying wouldn't help Nathan to get back Claire but Peter promised with all his heart that he would think of something to make Nathan's pain ease somehow. He'd eventually find a way to help his brother.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

_Note to all of you who crave more funny moments between Peter and Nathan: I'm sorry, but the brothers won't be in the next few chapters. Chapters Six to Eight will deal with Noah, Claire and Claude. I needed to get some stuff out of the way to set the path for what's to come. I hope you're not too disappointed. Please, stay with me, it will get better (and you need to know what's happening here for Part Two to make sense)._

_

* * *

  
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**Chapter Six**

_Odessa, Texas, May 1992_

Nearly two months after they'd adopted Claire, Bennet was brought home from an assignment by Thompson. He'd meant to catch his boss for a one-on-one anyway but still, for the entire drive home Bennet hadn't known how to break one particular subject that had been weighing on his mind for days now. So he'd sat in the car fidgeting nervously with his hands, unsure how to start.

"I think my wife suspects something," he finally announced when the car stopped in front of his home. He got out and stood near the white fence surrounding his garden. "She went through my bag. She found a gun and a sedation kit."

Thompson followed him to the fence and leaned his arms on it. "That's a particular kind of stupid on your part for letting her find them."

"I know, I know. The baby's been keeping me up for days. It was sloppy," Bennet sighed and rubbed a hand over his tired face. He didn't know when was the last time he'd slept through the night. Claire had kept him and Sandra up, crying and wailing all the time. She had two new teeth growing and that had troubled her mostly at night.

Bennet sighed again and went on: "I think Sandra thinks I'm some sort of a serial killer."

Thompson shot him an amused look. "She's better off thinking you're a serial killer than knowing the truth."

Well, Bennet wasn't sure he saw it like that but he was clever enough not to voice his thoughts. "I don't know what to do," he admitted instead.

"That a new sensation for you, Bennet?" Thompson still sounded more amused than worried.

Finally Bennet asked what had been on his mind ever since Sandra had found his equipment: "Is my wife in danger?"

Thompson's face turned serious at once. "If I said yes, what would be your next move? Would you pack up Sandra and little Claire and make a run for it or would you turn her over?"

Bennet hesitated just a second but Thompson's eyes gleamed dangerously. He had noticed the faltering. "I'd do what I've always done… what I'm told. But you didn't answer the question. Is she in danger?"

Thompson eyed him silently for a while. "Relax," he relented at last. "As far as I know she's safe. And as long as you'll come up with a plausible lie for her, one that won't come crashing down and biting you in the ass any time soon, she should remain safe as stone."

Bennet's brow furrowed at that particular phrasing but Thompson simply turned around and walked back to his car. When he'd sat inside he added: "So think fast, Bennet, and come up with something solid. Or else I'm afraid the company will."

He closed the door and seconds later the car sped off. Bennet looked after it for a long time, brows still furrowed in confusion, before he took a deep breath and eventually made his way up to the front door.

* * *

Two days later Bennet once again came home from work. Seconds after he'd stepped into the entrance hall he was greeted by his wife rather tersely.

"We need to talk." Sandra turned around and walked back into the living room.

"Sandra, if this is about the things you found, the gun and…" Bennet came after her and softly placed a hand onto her arm.

"Partly," she sat into her favorite armchair and then tensely looked up to him. Bennet remained standing.

"I admit that I was kind of shocked when I looked into the bag and found a gun staring back at me. I didn't know you owned one or that you'd even know what to do with it, soft sap that I know you are." Sandra took her husband's hand in hers and squeezed it with affection.

Bennet allowed himself a quick smile. That didn't sound like she was too angry, did it?

"Honey…"

"No, wait. I'm not done yet." Sandra pulled him closer so that he came to stand directly by her side. She looked at him with a mysterious smile. "You know that I'm no friend of weapons but… these are dangerous times we live in and, well… it will put my mind at rest to know that you're willing to protect our family at all costs."

"I am," Bennet confirmed. "You know I love you and little Claire with all my heart and I would do anything..."

"I love you too, honey." Sandra stood up and pulled her husband into her arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and then pulled away to look at his face again.

"But will you still love me when I've become so fat that I can't bend down to tie my own shoes? When I'm gonna annoy you to death with weird cravings for gherkins and ice cream in the middle of the night?"

"What?" Bennet looked confused for a second. Sandra was looking at him with a small smile and bright shining eyes and…

"Oh my God, Sandra!" He suddenly cried when it all fell into place. "You… you're…"

"Yes," Sandra beamed. "In about six months Claire will have a baby-brother or sister. I'm not sure which yet."

"But how…" Bennet stuttered perplexed, "I mean, how… we tried in vain all this time and now suddenly…"

"I know, it's crazy, isn't it? I mean, I nearly went crazy over the fact that we wouldn't succeed and… then we got Claire and… I don't know. I wasn't even thinking about pregnancy anymore, so… perhaps we were trying too hard earlier, I don't know." Sandra shook her head and leaned up to kiss her husband. "All I know is that I'm pregnant now and I couldn't be more happy at all."

Bennet took her into his arms again and kissed her deeply. Then he whispered into her ear. "Me too, Sandra. I love you!"

"I love you too," Sandra gushed back before she pulled him in for another kiss.

* * *

That night their love-making was slow and tender. Bennet took his time to thoroughly worship his wife's body, he wanted to make her understand how much the news of her pregnancy meant to him.

And, he thought afterwards with his back against the headboard trying to get his lungs and racing heartbeat back under control, it really meant the world to him.

Ever since they'd had the great luck of adopting Claire as their own Bennet's opinion on kids and his view of himself as a father had changed dramatically. Sure, his whole life had been turned upside-down by fatherhood and it had been a difficult thing to adjust to but… now, two months later, he couldn't imagine ever being without his family again. And in only a few months' time there would be another small but oh so wonderful addition to it.

Another life for him to cherish and love and protect at all costs.

"Mmhm, honey," Sandra's sated voice pulled Bennet out of his thoughts at last. "Do you know what I'd really love right now?"

"No, what?"

Sandra cuddled up to his right side and smiled. "You'll probably think I'm crazy but… do you remember those flowery onions I brought home from the Grunberg's barbecue last week? I'd love one of those right now."

"Really? Those strangely-shaped…"

"I know, I know," Sandra buried her face in the crook of his neck. "You think I'm crazy!"

Bennet kissed her cheek and whispered: "No honey. I just think those weird cravings you mentioned earlier are kicking in already. But I suppose one can't ignore the pregnancy hormones."

He moved to get out of bed but Sandra stopped him with a hand on his arm. "No, I'll go get them myself. You probably won't find them anyway." She slipped out of bed and snatched the next best piece of clothing from the floor. Bennet noticed that it was the pajama top he'd worn earlier, before Sandra had pulled it over his head in a rush to get him naked.

"Hey, I may be only a paper-salesman but I'm not a complete dumb, you know," Bennet complained mock-shocked and threw a pillow after her. "I'm fully capable of identifying some weird flowery onion-thingy in the fridge!"

Sandra dodged the pillow and laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that, honey. Even I get sometimes lost in the depths of my own fridge. With all those vegetables, cakes, the baby food and your million cans of ice-cream it's like a jungle in there." She stopped in the door frame and turned around. "Well, a particularly freezing jungle, that is."

"Alright, you jungle-queen. Go already!" Bennet smiled and then called after her: "Oh, and would you fetch me one of my million cans of ice-cream, please? I think I'm in the mood for 'Chocolate-Crunch'!"

"One Chocolate-Crunch coming up, alright!"

Bennet nestled back into the bed and listened to Sandra's bare footsteps on the stairs. Then the more floppy sound told him that she'd reached the tiled kitchen. When the fridge's door creaked tale-tellingly his mouth already began to water at the prospect of enjoying one of his favorite ice-creams in bed. With his wonderful, beautiful wife that would in a few months give birth to their child.

Bennet listened for sounds from the kitchen again and noticed the wild rummaging was followed by a triumphant "A-ha!" eventually.

Ah, good, she'd found it!

Suddenly a loud crash pierced Bennet's ears, like broken glass or something. Damn it, that had sounded like something heavy had smashed onto the floor. "Did you hurt yourself?" Bennet shouted concerned. There was no answer but then he could suddenly make out heavy footsteps and then...

"Arrrgh, Noooooaaah!" Sandra screamed.

"Sandra!" Bennet jumped out of bed at once. He could hear sounds of a struggle from downstairs and Sandra kept on screaming. Something heavy crashed onto the floor again and the sound of shattered ceramics echoed loudly through the house.

"Sandra!" Bennet cried again, struggling with his pajama bottoms and pulling his gun out of its holster at the same time.

Bottoms barely pulled up he ran down the stairs in wild terror, his wife's panicked cries sounding louder and more desperate with each second.

Just when Bennet rounded the corner from the living room to the cooking area the cries suddenly stopped. A deadly silence settled over the kitchen and Bennet stopped dead in his tracks at the horrible sight that greeted him there.

The back door had been smashed and was hanging in broken pieces from the hinges. The fridge stood wide open and a can of milk along with apples, bananas and peaches lay scattered all over the floor between millions and millions of pieces of broken glass and pottery. And amongst all the chaos stood his wife, stock-still, paralyzed upright like a statue.

"Sandra, are you okay?" Bennet asked breathlessly and took two steps towards her. A sharp pain sore through his right foot when he stepped into shards of broken glass but Bennet didn't stop moving forward. He had his loaded gun stretched out professionally, ready to shoot any intruder, and when he noticed a blurry movement out of the corner of his eyes he didn't hesitate a second but turned to the left and fired his gun three times.

The man who'd wanted to make a run for the back door was hit squarely in the chest and fell to the floor like an axed tree trunk. He didn't move but Bennet nevertheless rushed over to make sure he was truly dead.

The attacker was dressed in black jeans, a black leather jacked and his head and face were hidden by a woolen mask. Bennet bent over and quickly pulled it off, he needed to see that face. Gray hair spilled out from under the mask and the dull brown eyes looked lifelessly enough. Most of the man's face was covered by a wild gray beard.

"Oh God," Bennet gasped in shock when he recognized the man. William Meadow, known by his friends and co-workers as 'Stonemason' only, had worked for the company. He had been one of _them_, with the ability to…

Bennet let out another gasp when realization finally hit him. He let go of the dead man's body and stumbled over to where Sandra still stood in rigid shock.

And now, from close proximity, Bennet could see why. The gun slid out of his trembling hands and clattered to the floor, forgotten.

"Sandra!" he whispered and gulped heavily when tears threatened to close up his throat and blur his sight. Bennet quickly blinked them away before he stretched out a hand to carefully caress Sandra's face.

It felt cold, and hard. Skin wasn't supposed to feel like this.

A sob escaped Bennet's tightly pressed lips and he cried "Oh no, Sandra! No!" over and over.

His left hand came up to stroke over his wife's head. A head that had been full of beautiful wavy blond hair only minutes ago. Now it was suddenly gray and stiff, frozen to solid stone.

Just like the rest of her.

Her hair, the skin on her face, her arms and her long and slender legs… her entire body had turned to stone.

That beautiful body that had been rosy and full of life, that Bennet had held in his arms, had caressed and made love to not an hour ago, was now ashen and gray. His wife, his beautiful Sandra, the love of his life and his reason for being, had been turned into a lifeless, bloodless statue of stone.

Bennet choked on his tears and fell to the floor in terror and pain. He shouted out in his hurt, he gasped and gulped and cried like he'd never cried before. He lay there crumbled at the cold and stony feet of his dead-frozen wife and wished for the world to swallow him up so that he wouldn't feel this pain anymore.

Somewhere in the house a phone began to ring and muffled cries from upstairs indicated that Claire had woken up, too. But Bennet didn't hear any of it, he remained slumped at his wife's still feet, his body shuddering from the force of his desperate sobs and his mind blank in pain.

* * *

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Claude was pushing the gas pedal of his car until he thought it would break through the bottom and yet the car just wouldn't go fast enough.

He'd tried to call Bennet several times already but the man wasn't answering his phone.

"Oh bloody hell, come on already!" he swore and steered the car around the last corner. There, the Bennet's home loomed dark and gloomy at the end of the street. No light was on as far as Claude could tell from the outside.

He stopped the car in the drive-way and ran up to the house. He hammered on the front door when he found it locked, naturally, and when nobody answered he made his way quickly over to the backside.

As soon as he noticed the broken wood and shattered windows of the door he was filled with a dreadfully sinking feeling. It started in his guts and slowly crept up his throat until he thought he'd choke on it.

He was too late!

Stonemason had already been there, just like he'd feared. He'd tried to warn Bennet as soon as he'd overheard Thompson order this deadly assignment earlier that night but… apparently Stonemason the old fart had already been in the vicinity or else he wouldn't have made it quicker to the house than Claude.

Damn it!

But Claude tried to cling to one last desperate straw of hope. Maybe he'd been wrong after all and this was just the result of a simple housebreak?

Claude shoved the broken remains of the back door out of his way and entered the kitchen. He switched on the light and immediately saw Bennet crouched down at the feet of his dead wife, sobbing heartbreakingly.

"Oh God," Claude gasped as he took in the whole scene.

Sandra, Bennet's beautiful wife, had been turned into stone! She'd been frozen solid by the bloody heap that had been Stonemason in life and that now lay sprawled on the floor with three bloody holes in his chest.

Claude had noticed the body only secondary, his first sight had been that of his broken partner, the man he'd more than once accused in mockery of having the emotional range of a teaspoon. He'd read that phrase somewhere and had thought it fitting because Bennet, despite his relatively young age, had rarely allowed anything but stoic calm and reserve to grace his features.

Nothing he saw now reminded Claude of that. Now Bennet's face was contorted in pain and despair and Claude could feel his heart ache for his friend.

He hadn't been prepared for this. Claude had never before let his work get personally close. He'd never before cared to spare a thought on the victim's family that remained behind. He hadn't been prepared for this and he had to gulp repeatedly in order to force the bile suddenly rising in his throat back down to where it belonged.

This wasn't work because work had never felt this cruel.

Nothing Claude had witnessed in the five years he'd worked for the company had ever made him this sick to his stomach. Neither the messy, blood-filled killings he'd been forced to watch nor the few lives he'd had to take himself.

That had been nothing compared to the rush of pain that crashed into his very heart right now and threatened to drag him under, to overwhelm him completely

This was personal.

Claude had never felt pain this strongly for another human being. And right then, standing in the backdoor of his friend's home gasping for breath and trying to get a hold on his emotions, Claude swore that someone would pay for this.

He'd make sure of that. Cause this had nothing to do with work anymore, this had just turned personal.

* * *

He couldn't remember how long he'd been standing there in the door, staring at the scene. It could have been hours or mere minutes for all Claude knew.

But eventually he'd come out of his shocked stupor and had cautiously walked closer to where Bennet was still lying on the floor, motionless but for a slight shaking of shoulders every now and then.

"Bennet," Claude crouched down next to his oblivious friend, careful not to look at Sandra's stony form, and placed a tentative hand onto the man's shoulder. He could feel the tremor running through tense muscles but nothing else. There was no sign that Bennet had even felt his presence.

He tried a few more times to get the man's attention, but when there wasn't any change Claude stood up and, with one last long look down, turned and went upstairs instead.

He'd heard Claire wailing loudly ever since he'd entered the house and therefore made his way over to the small girl's room now. He found her standing in her crib on wobbly legs, hands clasped tightly around the bars, and face smeared with tears.

"Shhht, Claire-Bear," Claude lifted the small girl up into his arms and rocked her back and forth. "Everything's alright, sweetie, shhht, calm down. Come on Claire, it's fine, it's fine."

Claude buried the small head in the crook of his neck while he tried to calm her down with shooing notions and stupid words. Words that forced tears into his eyes and made him despise himself.

How could he do this? How could he stand there telling this little girl that everything's fine when downstairs the world had just fallen apart by the brutal murder of her mom?

How could he?

Claire stopped crying after a while and Claude forced himself to put her back down into bed. He'd wanted nothing more than to hold her close, shield her from the terrible truth forever. But he had to take care of Bennet eventually, he had to snap the man out of it.

So with one last tender kiss to the drowsy girl's forehead he left Claire in her crib and went down into the kitchen again.

Bennet was still crumbled on the floor, he hadn't moved a single muscle as far as Claude could tell.

"Bennet, come on," he tried again to get the man's attention. He shook his shoulder and tried to pull his slack form away from Sandra's stony feet, careful of the rubble and shards of broken glass and pottery around.

Bennet made a move as if to hold on to Sandra's feet, he stretched out a hand and tried to close his fingers around a stiff ankle, all the while keeping his face downwards and not acknowledging Claude's presence.

"No, don't, Bennet!" Claude called and quickly snatched Bennet's hand away. He was afraid that any movement would bring the gruesome statue of Sandra down, he'd seen something like that happen too many times already.

A human body, frozen to stone or ice or even metal – there were no limits to the cruelty some abilities could evoke apparently – would only hold itself upright for so long. And Claude knew that he had to get Bennet out of the kitchen before the inevitable would happen and Sandra's body would come crashing to the floor. Claude desperately wanted to spare Bennet at least the sight of that, the man had suffered enough already.

"Come on, Bennet," he addressed his friend again and pulled him further away, out of touching range with Sandra's feet. Then Claude crouched down and heaved Bennet's limp upper body close. He took him by the shoulders and tried to shake some sense back. Bennet's eyes were glassy and unfocussed and he still hadn't uttered a word or somehow admitted he'd felt Claude's presence.

"Bennet, come on, look at me! Bloody hell, Bennet!" Claude shook the man with force bordering on brutal, and still there was no recognition.

Claude stared into the vacant face a while longer before he finally shouted: "Noah!"

The use of his first name made Bennet look up at last. Blue eyes full of tears and pain locked onto Claude's equally glistening ones.

"You've never called me that before," Bennet whispered in a haze. What a bloody stupid thing to say in this situation, Claude thought bewildered, but then again he was glad that he'd gotten Bennet's attention somehow and so he would go with whatever would do the trick. With a small shrug he admitted: "You never said I could so… I just assumed you didn't feel comfortable with it."

Bennet stared at him. "I… you assumed… I, I should have said something, shouldn't I? I should have said so many things," his voice broke and he had to gulp heavily. "So many things I never said and now… now she'll never hear them… she…"

Bennet closed his eyes and tears started to steam down his pale face again. He let out a desperate sob and Claude quickly pulled him closer into his arms. He held onto the wrecking body and rocked back and forth on his heels, all the while stroking down Bennet's – Noah's – shuddering back.

"Damn it, Noah! Damn it, I'm sorry," was all Claude whispered over and over into the short hair tugged underneath his chin for a while.

* * *

Claude swirled the tumbler full of clear brown liquid around in his hand before he took another gulp. The scotch burned down his sore throat and filled his body with warmth. Then he let his gaze wander to where Noah was sitting across from him on the couch, shoulders slumped and staring forlornly into the glass he held clasped in both hands.

It was still full to the brim, Noah hadn't taken a sip yet, and some of the liquid had spilled over and was falling in thick droplets onto the carpet.

Neither Noah nor Claude seemed to care about that. What did alcohol-stains on a carpet matter when life had just been turned upside-down and had lost any meaning? How could anything matter ever again?

"Shit," Claude sighed into the silence that seemed to have lasted for hours. The night had faded away some time ago and bright rays of morning light had long since steamed into the living room. Square patterns of yellow were falling onto the gleaming floor and changed the dark red carped into a sea of blood. Not that they'd noticed any of it.

Claude sighed again and then drowned the last of his scotch. "Noah, come on, drink up," he advised his friend and finally Bennet lifted the tumbler to his mouth and gulped some of the burning alcohol down. "Do you think a mere bullet to his head would be sufficient?" he asked then without looking up. Claude had trouble following his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Thompson," Noah clarified and his voice held nothing but steel in it. "Do you think it would be enough to just shoot the bastard?"

"Noah…"

"You're right, far too easy," Bennet went on as if Claude hadn't said anything. "And too quick. I want the bastard to suffer the greatest possible way before I finally kill him. And kill him I will."

"No, Bennet, listen!" Claude tried to reason with his friend. "You can't…"

"Claude," Bennet's steel voice slapped through the air like a whip lash, "look at me. How can you even doubt that I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch?"

"I don't doubt it," Claude hurried to say, and he knew it was true enough. There was no uncertainty in Bennet's hard eyes, no pain-induced madness or anything. Just hatred and clear resolve. Bennet would take every attempt possible to kill Thompson, that was the plain and simple truth. But…

"He's sure as hell anticipating just that, Noah. Thompson knows you'll come after him, he's probably waiting for you right now…"

"And you think I care about that why?" Bennet asked coldly. For him there was nothing left to lose in this world.

Before Claude could come up with an answer there was suddenly a soft whimper coming from upstairs. Claire had woken up again. Claude heard Noah take a surprised breath and saw his eyes widen just a fraction. "Claire," Bennet gasped at last.

"That's right, my friend," Claude came over and sat down next to him on the couch. With a steady arm around his shoulder he softly said: "Claire. You have to think about your daughter now, Noah. If you run off and get killed in a bloody half-arsed attempt for vengeance… what's gonna happen to Claire then, huh?"

"God, I forgot about her, Claude!" Noah whispered devastated. "I forgot! What father forgets his own child?"

"Shut it, Bennet!" Claude shook Bennet's shoulders roughly. "Go up and take care of her, and in the meantime I'll think of what we're gonna do next, okay?"

"We?" Bennet shot him a wondrous look but stood up nevertheless. Claude got up too and clasped Bennet's hand briefly. "Sure, Noah," he tried to come up with a small smile. "One of us, one of them, that's how it's done, remember?"

Noah simply nodded and then went up the stairs to look after his daughter.

* * *

While Bennet had been upstairs with Claire Claude had drowned another quick shot of scotch to brace himself for what he knew he had to do eventually. He couldn't hold off on that horrible task forever now, could he?

He'd slowly made his way into the kitchen, had steadily walked up to the frozen statue of what had once been Sandra Bennet, and there he'd lifted his eyes inch after agonizingly slow inch up until he'd looked into the still face.

Damn it, she'd been bloody beautiful! And so young, too young to...

Claude had let his gaze wander over her face down to her body, frozen in terrified shock, before he'd all of a sudden noticed something he'd never before cared to realize in any of Stonemason's victims.

He'd come across quite a few of them in the last few years, but never had Claude realized that only the human body itself would turn into stone from the simple touch of that man.

Clothes, jewelry or any other inanimate objects they'd worn hadn't turned with them, they'd stayed unchanged. Bloody hell, how come he had never noticed that before?

Perhaps it was the fact that now, in this case, there were so very few of these unchanged objects to see. Apparently Sandra had been next to naked when she'd… when it had happened.

It seemed the only thing she'd worn, apart from her wedding ring and a pair of golden earrings that still gleamed in the morning light, had been a blue- and white-striped pajama top.

It was hanging loosely around her delicate form, far too loose for it to be one of hers originally. No, the pajama top had obviously belonged to Noah.

"Oh God," Claude heard Noah gasp before he'd noticed his presence right behind him. He whirled around in panic.

"No, please, Noah!" He quickly tried to steer his friend away. "Don't look at her, you shouldn't have to see her like that!"

Noah refused to step back but reached around Claude and managed to take a soft hold on one of Sandra's outstretched arms. "God, she's…" he broke off when his voice wouldn't obey properly and tightened his grip on Sandra's pajama-clad arm.

"Don't, she's gonna…" Claude tried to stop him but Noah merely send him a sad nod. "I know, Claude, but I have to do this." Claude eyed his friend closely for a second, then he let his head fall down dejected and stepped back.

Noah, with fresh tears steaming down a face that otherwise belied no emotion whatsoever, turned back to the statue that had been his wife. "I'm so sorry, Sandra! I know this is all my fault, I never wanted to put your life in danger, believe me. I know it's my fault. I'm so sorry, darling!" His voice cracked again but he went on with his goodbyes through broken sobs. "I will never forgive myself for this, for letting this happen to you. I caused you so much pain with my constant lying and hiding things from you… so much pain to others as well, to Claire of all people… I robbed her of a mother again, darling, and I know that she'll never forgive me for it. Just like I'll never forgive myself."

Bennet sobbed one last "I'm sorry," and then he yanked the hand that was still clasping Sandra's arm upwards with brutal abandon.

The statue of Sandra Bennet exploded from the sudden movement and a million pieces of sharp-edged stone flew through the air. They shattered onto the tiled floor in a deafening thunder and the air was filled with thick clouds of dust.

"Goodbye my love," Bennet sobbed and lifted his right hand up. The forlorn pajama top clung to it.

Claude watched his friend clutch the striped garment with both hands to his body and placed a comforting hand onto his back.

He didn't know how long the two of them remained like that, but eventually he was able to pull Noah away from the mess and into the living room again.

And after yet another glass of scotch for them both Claude went upstairs, fetched Claire along with a hastily packed bag with the most necessary things for them both, and then steered father and daughter out of the house.

When they sped off in his car Claude noticed that Noah kept his eyes steadily fixed on the road in front of them, not once turning back.

Well, there was nothing to look back to anyway.

The last thing Claude had done right before they'd left the house had been opening the gas tap of the stove and then leaving his lit lighter on the floor to take care of the rest.

By the time the house exploded they were on the outskirts of Odessa already.

* * *

**TBC**

_Note: The phrase "The emotional range of a teaspoon" Claude refers to was taken from J.'s 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' and therefore doesn't belong to me._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_(This chapter is rated R for torture and graphic details of murder)_

_

* * *

  
_

They'd come up with the plan in the car.

A risky and bloody stupid plan that Claude absolutely hadn't liked in the slightest. He'd been all for making a run for it together; leaving the company, Texas and for all that he'd cared the entire bloody States behind in a cloud of smoke. He could have easily imagined them building a new life somewhere, anywhere…

But Noah had wanted to hear none of it. Furthermore, he hadn't been swayed for one second from wanting to kill Thompson himself, no matter what arguments Claude had brought up against it.

Not that Claude had seriously tried anyway… he knew a lost clause when he heard one. Bennet wouldn't give up until Thompson had gotten what he deserved, that much was clear. So, better to get it over and done with, right?

And so they'd eventually come up with this plan. Claude knew what they'd thought out would throw its dark shadows over his life like a thick cloak and would kick his already sorry existence into a life controlled by lies and deception. It would change everything and also would, very likely, result in shortening his sad existence to a mere days, if not hours… Not to mention the lives of two young colleagues it would cost as well.

But it was a plan, and if it would work… well, then Noah and Claire would be out of harm's way eventually and that's what mattered to Claude the most.

Earlier in the car he had watched his friend closely while talking things through. Noah had seemed to be holding up alright for now, but Claude knew he couldn't even begin to imagine what had to be going on inside the stoic man. The hurt over the loss of his wife, the feeling of betrayal by the people he'd worked for, had thought he could trust, the anger and hatred, and last but not least the fear and uncertainty about his and his little daughter's future.

Come to think of that, perhaps Claude had indeed gotten the better part of the deal. His life would probably be over soon, and even if he would against all odds survive this reckless plan of theirs, the future ahead of him still seemed like a hundred times brighter than what Bennet would be faced with.

Nobody had ever gotten out of the company's grasp before, at least not alive, if the firm hadn't wanted to let them escape (not that he'd ever heard of that either). So if they'd go through with this plan Noah would be on the company's black list for the rest of eternity, and he'd be hunted down no matter what. Knowing about that sword dangling constantly over one's head, and dealing with the murder of one's wife and the task of raising a daughter alone…

No, Claude wouldn't want to be in Bennet's shoes at all.

But he'd do everything in his power to help the man survive. Hence his consent to this.

There had only been one detail of the plan that they both hadn't been comfortable with: The fact that it relied one somebody else's help, namely two agents from the company. Claude could easily understand why the man hadn't wanted to trust anybody working for them at all, not after what had happened, but he'd managed to convince Bennet of the fact that both Phillips and Lugosa were good men and could be trusted to be on their side.

And if not… well, it wouldn't matter anyway, would it? Not when those two wouldn't survive the day. They'd have to be written off as casualties, something Claude would rather avoid, but…

But their help (and consequently their death) had been the only thing Claude had been able to come up with to secure a positive outcome. He needed a bloody waterproof alibi after all, if they ever wanted to convince the company of his innocence in all this.

So Claude had set Bennet and his little daughter off somewhere safe to get some rest (not that Bennet had looked as if he would be able to sleep for even a second), and from there had called first Agent Marty Phillips and then Agent Giovanni Lugosa (both one of _them_, or from Claude's perspective, one of us) to call in some favors.

Marty had promised to meet him within the next hour and Claude had walked up to Bennet then, a frail smile on his face, and had clasped his friend's hand briefly.

"Well, if I'm not back in two hours then you know that you were right and Phillips couldn't be trusted after all. So… don't linger too long if I don't show, okay? I want you to…"

"Claude," Bennet's voice was low but confident.

"Yeah?" Claude looked up into Noah's calm face.

"I'll see you soon."

They held their gazes for a moment longer, silently communicating everything they wouldn't dare to speak out loud, before Claude released Bennet's hand and turned away.

"Give Claire-Bear a kiss for me," was the last Bennet heard him say before he pulled his trick and vanished from sight.

"You can give it to her yourself when all this is over," Noah whispered after him.

* * *

Claude heaved the unconscious form of his former boss onto the backseat of his car and shut the door. Then he motioned for Marty to get inside and climbed into the driver's seat. Seconds later they sped off and, just as Claude had anticipated, Marty immediately began to talk.

"What if they'll suspect that I helped you?" the young man's voice sounded nervous and Claude couldn't hold it against him. Marty Phillips was only twenty-two and had been working for the company just about three months. He was a rookie, though Claude would never call him that. That nickname would forever belong to Bennet alone. Nevertheless, Phillips was new and Claude guessed that 'being involved in kidnapping, torturing and killing the boss' hadn't been anywhere near his immediate to-do-list.

He tried to reassure the young man by squeezing his thigh in a gesture that spoke of more intimate knowledge. "Who's gonna suspect anything, huh? Nobody knows we even know each other and, what's more important, they don't have a clue of what you really can do with that neat little trick of yours, do they?"

Marty looked down at Claude's hand on his leg before he lifted his eyes again. "No, but…"

"Relax, mate!" Claude gave him a gentle smile. He'd really come to like this chap. "It'll all work out fine and nobody's gonna get hurt." Then, with a quick look into the rear-view-mirror to Thompson's still-out form, he added: "Well, apart from him of course. That sodding son of a bitch will get just what he deserves."

Marty didn't reply anything but covered Claude's hand on his thigh with his own, unconsciously intertwining their fingers like they'd done many times before in more pleasant situations. Claude gulped silently, he hated himself already for what he was about to do. But Noah and Claire counted on him, and to Claude their safety held infinitely more meaning than this boy's life.

Wasn't he a sodding son of a bitch already?

* * *

They reached their destination only twenty minutes later, an old barn on the outskirts of Odessa that nobody hadn't seemed to have set foot in for years, and Claude was glad to see Bennet come out to greet them as soon as he'd stopped the car.

"Where's Claire?" Claude asked quietly.

"Safe, in the car," Bennet answered and Claude threw a quick look over to where a newly-rented gray SUV was parked. Bennet had obviously used his absence for something other than rest. Just as well, he would need a car to get out of town soon enough.

Bennet sent a brief nod over to Phillips. Then he threw a quick glance towards Thompson on the backseat. "No problems bagging him?"

Noah's voice sounded calm and indifferent but Claude noticed the clenched fists and rigid-held back and knew that his friend was holding onto his cool demeanor only by a threat. He had to be inwardly itching to get his hands on the man responsible for his wife's brutal murder and, well… who could blame him, really?

Claude wanted nothing more than to let Thompson get his rightful punishment as well, that's why he'd beaten the man to a bloody pulp before he'd stashed him in the car.

"No, everything went smoothly," he finally answered. "Marty here pulled his trick and planted the seat for my cover-story before he alerted Thompson to my presence. And the fucking sod walked right into the trap. He didn't have a clue that I was right behind him until I started punching his lights out."

They'd heaved the body out of the car and into the barn by then and Bennet made quick work of fastening heavy steel chains around Thompson's slack wrists and ankles while Claude and Marty were holding the body upright.

When the still form was tied securely to the wall Bennet turned back to Claude. "Did you have to punch out his lights this far?"

Claude allowed himself a quick smirk. "You didn't say anything about bringing him in unharmed."

"No, but," Bennet inhaled deeply, "I'd rather have him conscious for this."

"He should wake up soon enough," Claude replied. Then he turned to Marty who'd watched their exchange in silent trepidation. "You don't have to stay here, Marty, if you'd rather not watch…"

Marty's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "N- no, it's okay. I'll stay."

"You sure?" Bennet asked. "It won't be a pretty sight."

"What are you going to do to him?" the young man asked hesitantly but before Bennet could answer the door opened and a man of about twenty-five stuck his head into the barn. He had jet-black hair and eyes like dark coals and was dressed casually in jeans and a threadbare T-shirt.

"Bon giorno, gentlemen!" he greeted in thick Italian accent and closed the door behind him.

"Agent Lugosa," Bennet acknowledged with a calm nod.

"Oh," Marty visibly paled at the sight of his foreign colleague. He knew what this man, though looking like your average Italian taxi-driver or something, was capable of. His ability was one of the most devastating ones the company had yet uncovered in a human being.

"Marty, Claude, Mr. Bennet," Agent Lugosa came closer and nodded at each of them.

"Thank you for coming on such a short notice," Bennet was all business-like and cool. Claude wondered briefly how the man managed it, he had to be breaking apart on the inside by now.

"Well, Claude said that this was no official assignment but I want you to know, Mr. Bennet," the young man sent Noah a hopeful smile, "that I'm glad to be allowed to finally work with you. I've heard that despite you being none of us you climbed up in the company's ranks rather quickly and, well… I'm proud to be of some help to you."

Bennet let the man's flattery wash over him and walked up to where Thompson hang in his chains.

"O diabolo, is that…" Lugosa stopped short when he recognized his boss. Or, actually, the boss of his boss. "What are you doing?"

"For now?" Bennet raised a single eyebrow and stepped directly in front of Thompson. "I'm trying to wake the bastard up."

He swung back his fist and let it crash into Thompson's stomach with full force. The man let out a deep groan and his body convulsed. Bennet hit him again, this time straight into the face. Fresh blood seeped out of the already broken nose and Thompson's head lolled to the side.

"Wake up, you son of a bitch!" Bennet growled low in his throat.

"What are you… why are you… why is he doing that? That's his boss!" Lugosa turned to the other two men that had been watching Bennet silently. Marty stepped up to Lugosa and whispered something into the terrified Italian's ear. "O padre mio, his wife?"

"Bennet," Thompson's weak croaking voice suddenly caught everyone's attention. "I knew," he broke off to cough up some blood and Bennet waited patiently until he'd spit it to the ground. "I knew we'd meet again soon."

"Well, then I'd say you've become quite sloppy, letting yourself get caught so easily." Bennet's voice was still calm. Claude admired him for it, he couldn't have restrained himself like this!

"I didn't think you'd sink so low as to rely on the help of _them_, you know?" Thompson whispered between coughs of blood. Then a diabolical smirk fell over his face. "By the way, Bennet. How's your lovely wife?"

Smash!

Bennet's fist had crashed into Thompson's face so fast that none of the others had seen him even move before the impact had registered on their brains. Then he pulled his gun out of its holster and pushed it under Thompson's chin. "You son of a…"

"Noah," Claude stepped up to Bennet and placed a restraining hand onto his friend's arm. Bennet whirled around, cold fury in his eyes.

"Claude…"

"I know," Claude relented quickly, "I want him dead, too. But do you really think he's suffered enough already? If you kill him now then, well… we wouldn't have needed to bring these two into it."

Bennet took in Claude's solemn face before he looked over his shoulder to where the two young agents stood in shell-shocked silence. "You're right," he agreed eventually and slowly lowered his gun again. Then he addressed his former boss in a voice low and full of restrained anger: "I will blast your brains out, be sure of that! But first," he took a calming breath and made a few steps backwards to give Thompson a clear sight on his surroundings. When he was sure Thompson had finally seen Lugosa, Bennet continued in a much calmer, almost teasing, voice: "First I'd say we show our boss here what fine weapons he's been breeding in that company of his. Agent Lugosa?"

The young man startled at being addressed directly and he started stammering: "What? No, please… you want me to…? Mr. Bennet, I…"

"Bennet," Thompson's eyes had grown wide in sudden fear. He knew what Lugosa was capable of after all. He tried to plead: "Listen, Bennet! It wasn't my decision, okay? I'm sorry about what happened, I'm sorry it had to come to this, but you have to see reason…"

"Reason?" Bennet stared at Thompson, eyes burning with hatred. "You killed my wife! And she was my reason, Thompson! You had my wife killed just because she'd found a gun in my bag! Where's the reason in that, huh?"

"It wasn't my decision, Bennet. We follow orders, that's how we do it around here, isn't it?" Thompson sounded more desperate with every word he uttered.

"Not anymore! Do you know…" Bennet's voice broke slightly but he gulped and went on: "Do you know that you killed not only my wife but also my unborn child?"

"What?"

"Sandra was pregnant! She told me not two hours before you… before she… You fucking bastard!" Bennet spit and slammed his fist once again into Thompson's face.

Claude let out a pained gasp, he hadn't known about that! Oh fuck, poor Noah!

"I, Bennet…" Thompson groaned, his mouth spitting out more blood. He had paled visibly. "Noah, please!"

"Shut up!" Bennet cried and turned away. He walked up to a terrified Lugosa and stared down at him. "Do it."

"Mr. Bennet, I…"

Noah raised his gun and pressed it against the Italian's head. "I said do it!"

The young agent's eyes flew from Bennet to Claude, pleading silently for the man to interfere somehow, but Claude simply stared back at him. Lugosa looked back to Bennet, fear in his eyes, but then finally turned towards Thompson. Noah lowered his gun and Lugosa made a few hesitant steps towards the chained man.

"No!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Lugosa whispered softly and came closer still. He lifted his trembling right hand, placed it above Thompson's heart, and closed his eyes in despair. "I'm sorry," he choked.

Under Lugosa's touch Thompson's suit and shirt started to give off smoke and a horrible burnt smell filled the barn quickly.

"No, no, please, no!" Thompson cried. "No, no! Nooooooo!"

Thompson's face turned a horrible shade of red and then… Lugosa tore his hand back. Thompson's clothes, skin, even his hair, came off with it and exploded in a cloud of smoking dust.

Back against the wall all that remained was a bloody, skinless heap, held upright only by steel chains.

"Oh my God," Marty Phillips gasped in the background but nobody paid any attention to him.

Bennet stared at the crippled body of his former boss with unyielding eyes, closely waiting for signs of life still in there somewhere. Claude couldn't look at the flayed body any longer, he stared at Bennet instead, tears in his eyes and a nausea in his throat bigger than he'd ever felt before.

And then the flayed body began to suddenly twitch and jerk against the chains, skinless lips forming guttural sounds of pain and despair and Bennet simply stood there, watching the bloody heap twist and turn in agony. Eventually Claude couldn't stand it any longer.

"Noah," he called, desperate for his friend to finally end this torture. "Shoot him! Damn it, Noah, kill him already!"

Finally Bennet seemed to come out of his stupor. He lifted his gun to the bloody mass that had once been Thompson's face, and pressed the barrel against the twitching forehead. The he pulled the trigger one, two, three times.

Thompson's body jerked once more before it finally slumped in the chains, lifeless at last.

It was over.

Claude took a few steps towards Noah but then a retching sound made him turn around. Phillips had just thrown up onto the floor, he stood bent over heaving and gulping repeatedly. Claude couldn't hold it against him, he had trouble keeping the bile down himself.

And Lugosa?

The young agent who had just used his terrible ability to flay a man had stumbled back from the body and was now kneeling on the floor, folded hands raised in prayer, and his lips whispered desperate words for mercy to whatever deity he believed in.

Another wave of nausea had Agent Phillips on his knees as well, he dry-heaved and coughed furiously.

"Take him outside," Bennet's surprisingly steady voice called Claude to attention again and for a long horrible second he thought that Noah had referred to the dead and flayed body. But then Claude understood and he grabbed Phillips' shaking form and hauled him to his feet. He'd thankfully stopped heaving.

"What about Lugosa?" Claude asked with a look towards the Italian still lost in desperate prayer.

"I'll take care of him," Bennet replied calmly and Claude knew what that meant. He threw one last look at the kneeling man and then hastily shoved Phillips out of the barn. He threw the door shut after him and pulled the young man further away to the car.

When the gunshot cut through the air Claude threw a worried glance at the man by his side but noticed relieved that it hadn't seemed to have registered on his still shocked mind.

Claude opened the car door and helped Phillips climb onto the passenger seat. Then he walked up to Bennet's car and waited for Noah to come outside.

* * *

Right after Noah had finally stepped out of the barn the time had come for final farewells (at least for now). It had taken him a while but eventually Claude had kissed Claire goodbye. The small girl had thankfully slept in the backseat of Bennet's rented car through all of their gruesome execution of Thompson. Now Claude and Noah stood outside Bennet's car, ready to drive off into different directions.

Bennet threw a quick glance at Agent Phillips, sitting in Claude's car still a bit dazed but ready to get back to Primatech-Paper.

"How long do you think you'll have until his house of cards will crash?"

"Don't know," Claude shrugged. "The image will probably collapse the second he's dead. I'll have to do it near the little wonderland he created for us. Right inside would be best, probably."

Claude briefly thought about the false image of himself in a sparse training room at the company, in sweatpants and T-shirt, teaching Marty in combat. That fata morgana had been conjured up by the young agent and his fascinating ability right before they'd lured Thompson out of the building and right into the trap. It would guarantee Claude's alibi for when Thompson's mutilated body was found and it would also secure his continuing position within the company, just like they'd planned.

Marty Phillips was able to create any image, down to people walking and talking like real, within the confines of a room. It was an incredible trick and Claude felt kind of bad for what he knew he had to do to the young man who'd been his on-and-off lover for two month now.

Bennet was eyeing him closely. "Claude, if you'd rather not…"

"No, it's okay," Claude hurried to say. "It's for the best, really."

"I know that you two… that you've become… close, and… if you think we can trust him…" Bennet knew he couldn't really allow Phillips to live, not with what he'd just witnessed, but he also knew that he was asking way too much of Claude.

He would kill the young man himself but Claude had already assured to do it. Still, now that the time had come…

"We weren't," Claude said into the silence. "I mean, we were but… look, it was just sex."

"For you," Bennet commented softly. He suspected Phillip's would answer quite differently if pressed.

The silence stretched on heavily until Claude finally lifted his head. He tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, it's not my fault those young chaps keep falling for my rough charms."

Bennet stared at him for a second, unsure if he'd heard right. But then… if sarcastic idiocy and making fun of it was what Claude needed to get through this situation undamaged… Bennet knew that Claude wrapped himself in snarky mockery like a cloak only to shield himself from every cruelty the world had thrown at him in the past. So if Claude wanted to play it like this… Bennet would go with it for now.

"Yeah right, I guess you're completely innocent in that," he replied eventually and smiled down at his partner. It was the first smile, or half-smile, Claude had seen him express since… you know. Since.

"Don't you make fun of me, Bennet. I've been known to have my charming moments." He teased further.

"Yeah, Claude," Bennet's voice turned serious again and the look he gave his former partner was honest and open. "I'm beginning to understand what these guys see in you."

"Really?" Claude raised an eyebrow, not yet ready to let the good mood change back into a teary goodbye. "And what would that be? A temptation that you wouldn't be able to resist if it weren't for your…"

Oh shit, Claude had been about to say 'wife' but had fortunately managed to hold his tongue this time. Bennet hadn't seemed to have listened, thank God for small favors.

"You've been the best teacher and partner I could have asked for and…" Bennet placed a hand onto Claude's arm, "you're a true friend, Claude."

Coming from Noah Bennet Claude knew that this was more than a compliment. He looked up into Bennet's pale and drawn face, not sure what to say, and then decided on a plain and simple: "Likewise, Rookie. Take care of yourself, and of Claire-Bear, will you?"

"I will," Noah answered and turned to open the car door. "And you'll reassure yourself of that in a few weeks time, as soon as you think it's safe enough to meet."

Claude watched him get into the car and close the door. Then Noah stuck his hand through the open window and clasped his arm for one last time. "Thank you, Claude, for everything. I wouldn't have made it through the day without you."

"You're welcome, Noah." Claude whispered and watched Bennet drive away to… he'd no idea where. But they would meet again when all the dust had settled and when it would be safe again. Claude just hoped that he'd stay alive long enough for that day to arrive. He had a job to go back to after all, a job with no longer a boss in charge because he'd just helped to kill the man.

And he'd deserved no bloody better!

Claude finally turned back to his own car and let out a sigh at the sight of Marty Phillips. Yet another loose end for him to tie up before this horrible day would finally be over.

It was the 28th of May, 1992 and Claude had no idea when he would see Noah and little Claire again.

If ever.

* * *

**TBC**

_That's the last we see of Noah, Claire and Claude for now. The next chepter will deal with Peter and Nathan again and that's at the same time the end of Part One. _

_ In Part Two all of them will finally meet again and we'll be getting to the good stuff then. _

**And please, no matter what you think of this... please let me know, okay? I'm dying to read some of your opinions.**


	9. Chapter 9

_After the massive amount of heartbreak, darkness and cruelty of the last few chapters here's something more lighthearted. It's cute and fluffy Petrelli-time again, and it's the final chapter of Part One. Please enjoy it._

**Chapter Nine**

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_New York, May 1992_

Peter woke up from his dream with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat and with his small body trembling from head to toe. He could feel a coppery taste in his mouth that was quickly joined by an even more disgusting flavor of gastric acid when the bile started to rise in his throat.

Oh God, he felt so sick!

The young boy quickly bolted from his bed and managed to make his way to the adorning bathroom just in time for the heaving to start. He fell onto his knees in front of the toilet and threw up forcefully in between gasps for air.

And that's how Nathan found his little brother when he entered their shared bathroom some time later to prepare for bed.

"Pete!" Nathan stared down at the young boy in shock. He was at Peter's side in two quick strides and crouched down next to him, a steadying hand placed onto Peter's back immediately. "Are you sick?"

Peter had just enough time to give him a glare that clearly said "Duh!" before another wave of nausea had him bowed over the toilet again. He retched and coughed forcefully and all through it he could feel Nathan's warm hand drawing comforting patterns on his back.

"Shhht, it's okay, Pete! I got you, I'm here!" Nathan whispered into his hair and Peter tried to concentrate on the calming voice as well as on the heat and steady pressure emanating from Nathan's touch. He forced his mind to block out everything but the comfort, the feeling of love and protectiveness his brother radiated.

And eventually his upset stomach seemed to calm down and Peter was able to take a few deep breaths without the urge to spit them out right away again.

"Here," Nathan pressed a wet washcloth to Peter's sweat-drenched forehead while pulling him further away from the toilet and back into his chest. The soothing cold from the washcloth contrasted heavily with the scorching heat seeping into every part of Peter that was held by Nathan's firm body. Peter closed his eyes in relief.

"Thanks," he whispered, his voice feeble and unsteady. Instead of a reply Nathan simply pressed a soft kiss onto the damp hair and strengthened his grip on the shaking body.

The two brothers remained like that for a long time, crouched together on the cold bathroom floor, silent but for the occasional calming notion from Nathan whenever a soft whimpering sob made it past Peter's lips. He tried to hold the tears at bay, he didn't want to cry like a baby in front of his big brother! But he couldn't! It was just too awful, too much!

Before his closed eyes Peter could still see the skinless, corpselike… thing he'd dreamed of, twitching desperately in its confines. The steel chains had turned crimson from all the blood running down the torn flesh of what had once been a man's very human extremities, before something (or someone) had turned them into… this!

"Oh God!" Peter choked out when the memory threatened to overwhelm him once again.

"Shhht, Pete! It's okay, calm down. Calm down, Pete!" Nathan's steady voice broke through the images before Peter's eyes and managed to dissolve them into nothingness.

"God, Nathan!" Peter twisted around in Nathan's embrace and threw his arms around his brother's neck. Face pressed tightly against Nathan's chest Peter clung to him then, sobbing desperately.

Nathan could feel his undershirt, the only thing he was wearing besides dark slacks, becoming drenched in hot tears. They leaked through the thin garment until his chest felt uncomfortably wet. But Nathan didn't mind, in fact he couldn't have cared less right now. The only thing he cared about at the moment was… finding out what had Peter so disturbingly upset and how to make it better somehow.

Peter's sickness from before had thankfully subsided and Nathan quickly flushed the remains of that down the toilet.

He assumed that Peter getting sick hadn't been the result of their earlier family dinner like he'd first thought. No, it seemed to him now that it must have been brought on by a bad dream. A particularly nasty kind of nightmare, if it had reduced Peter to this state.

Peter was still sniffling into Nathan's chest and although the small arms around his neck had somewhat lessened their death grip, it seemed that Peter had no inclination of letting go any time soon. Nathan sighed quietly into Peter's hair. His bare feet were beginning to fall asleep on the cold floor and he could feel a cramp creeping up his right leg from being held in an awkward angle for too long. He needed to move soon, or else this position would get really painful.

Nathan took a deep intake of breath and then, with a tightening grip around Peter's back, he managed to shift both their weights onto his cramped leg in order to get the other steadily onto the floor. Moments later he summoned all his strength to stand up and… ouch! Now that hurt!

Okay, so his body was clearly not in as good a shape as Nathan had thought, despite the work-out he usually put it through two times a week. Lifting up yourself with a twelve-year-old firmly attached, maybe a bit smaller than average but by no means a little child, was obviously out of the question.

Peter had made no sign that he'd even noticed Nathan's failed attempt to get up and Nathan thought briefly about exercising a second shot.

But then he shrugged it off with a simple 'what the hell' and, closing his eyes in concentration for a second, called on his ability. He felt his whole body become feather-light instantly.

Nathan grabbed Peter tightly and, without any effort, their bodies lifted up into the air. Nathan directed their low flight from the bathroom floor through the slightly ajar door into Peter's room. He steered them over to the bed and managed a soft landing.

As soon as Peter's back hit the mattress he lifted his face off Nathan's chest and stared at his brother in complete wonderment. "Did you just fly us here?"

Nathan simply shrugged and stretched out so that he'd come to lie next to Peter's smaller form. The younger boy immediately turned onto his side and melted closely into his brother with one arm thrown over Nathan's chest. His head found the perfect spot on Nathan's shoulder and he snuggled up to it like he'd done many times before.

And Nathan couldn't help it either, it came absolutely natural to burry his face in the soft dark hair and inhale his brother's oh so familiar scent. His arm sneaked out from under Peter's side and came to rest on one narrow hipbone.

It was the most intimate position he'd ever shared with anyone (since Nathan had never cared for cuddling and ridiculous pillow-talk after – or during - sex) and yet there was nothing sexual about this situation. It was brotherly comfort at its best and Nathan felt his entire body relax into the familiar sensation. His strained muscles loosened up and he could feel his consciousness drift off slowly.

Nathan knew that he could easily fall asleep like this.

And yet, some part of his brain was still working pretty much on overload, the part that cared deeply for his brother's well-being. He needed to know what had Peter so upset earlier that he'd nearly spilled his guts out.

"Pete?" he asked quietly after a while.

"Hm?"

"Was it a dream?" Nathan asked further. He could feel Peter's arm tighten briefly around his chest and the buried head nodded silently.

"You can tell me, you know that, right?"

"Nathan, I…" Peter had lifted his head from Nathan's shoulder and big brown eyes bore into Nathan's slightly more golden ones. "It was awful, Nathan. The skin was all gone and there was so much blood and the… the thing, it wasn't a man anymore… that thing kept twitching and jerking… still alive…"

Nathan pulled Peter's form closer. "Shhht Pete, it's alright. It was just a dream, okay? Just a dream."

Peter didn't reply anything, he just buried his face in the crook of Nathan's neck again. He knew that it had been more than a simple nightmare, more than just a dream.

It had really happened, he knew it.

Somewhere someone had done that, had killed a man by making him lose his skin somehow.

He simply knew that it had been real. But what Peter didn't know was why he'd been forced to see that. What should he do about it? Was there something he could do at all?

The man was dead, and Peter had no idea how he should have done anything to prevent that. And even if… if he really should have done anything to save the man at all. He wasn't so sure about that now.

Because… and Peter had no idea what to make of it but… it had felt right somehow! Besides the horror at the gruesome sight Peter had felt… satisfied. It had been good to see the man die.

And now Peter felt absolutely bad because of that. He couldn't really be a hero if he thought bad things like that, could he?

"Nathan?" Peter asked when the silence had stretched and Nathan had thought his little brother had fallen asleep already.

"Yeah, Pete?"

"You were right, you know?" Peter's voice was barely audible.

Nathan frowned. "What are you talking about, Pete?"

"You know, remember when I made those Superman costumes and wanted us to be heroes?" Nathan simply nodded and fixed his brother with shaded eyes. What the hell was going on in that brain of his?

"You were right then, to stop me. I know that now. I can't be a real hero, not when I let things like that happen."

Nathan leaned up on one elbow and immediately glared down at Peter. "Stop it, Pete! Alright? Nothing happened! It was just a dream!"

"No, it wasn't! And I did nothing… I'm no hero, Nathan. I can never be!" Peter's voice was calm and steady, as if he believed there was absolutely no doubt. And Nathan hated seeing his little brother like this. So miserable, so dejected.

"Pete," he stated at last, determined to cheer him up somehow. "Come on, you're a kid! What do you expect?"

"Thanks, Nathan! That really helps!" Peter might be a kid but he sure as hell knew how to nail sarcasm. But Nathan waved off impatiently. "No, Pete! I mean… you're only twelve, right?"

"So?"

"So," Nathan's eyes gleamed suddenly with a certain fire. "Have you ever seen Superman, Batman or even Spiderman at the age of twelve?"

"No," Peter frowned.

"Right! That's what I'm talking about. They weren't heroes then, Pete. They were just kids, like you! They became heroes only when they'd grown up." Nathan send his brother a brilliant grin and pulled his small form close to his side again. "So, give yourself a few more years, okay? Who's to say that you won't end up a hero after all?"

Peter snuggled into Nathan's side and remained silent for a long time. Eventually Nathan felt a small hand creep into his and squeeze it tightly.

"Thanks, Nathan," Peter whispered into Nathan's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"Any time," Nathan smiled down on him and then, after a while, cautiously moved to extract his body from Peter's bed. The hold on him tightened immediately.

"Can you sleep here tonight? Stay with me?" Peter asked hesitantly and Nathan let his body relax onto the mattress again. "Sure," he smiled fondly and pulled the bedcovers over their bodies. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Peter and soon enough both brothers drifted off into sleep.

* * *

The next morning found its way into the bedroom by steams of bright light settling onto the bed. A golden patch made it onto Nathan's face and tickled his nose. He turned away and, still more asleep than awake, Nathan shifted slightly. He felt relaxed and warm, all drowsy and not-there-yet to deal with the world.

Nathan trailed a lazy hand down his chest and abdomen where it found the quite usual morning erection in his pants. He gave his half-hard cock a gentle squeeze, nestled back into the warmth around him and his hand found the zipper and pulled it down.

Nathan's sleepy subconscious wondered briefly about the fact that he'd apparently slept in his trousers instead of his usual nightly attire of boxers and T-shirt, but then… who cared about that?

He shifted his hips a little to get the annoyingly tight slacks far enough opened for his hand do reach into his boxers.

Hm, now that felt decidedly better. He let out a soft moan and rubbed his flat palm a few times over his cock before he let his hand wander lower to give his balls equal attention.

And that was exactly when Nathan noticed two things simultaneously. The first was a strange firm warmth covering most of his left side, as if someone was lying there beside him. And the second was the badly suppressed giggle he could suddenly hear from next to him.

Nathan's eyes shot open and the hand on his dick stilled immediately in its actions. His head turned left and he was instantly met by Peter's wide grin.

"Oh, come on! Don't stop because of me, Nathan!" Peter had the audacity to smirk. His eyes flickered down to Nathan's crotch with a gleam and the elder brother pulled his hand out of his slacks as if it had been burned.

"Peter!" he glared into the boy's face and sat up abruptly. "What the hell…?" He broke off when he noticed that he wasn't in his own bed. He'd obviously slept in Peter's room last night, with him, in his small bed.

And then Nathan suddenly remembered. Last night, Peter being sick and crying his heart out. He'd tried to comfort him, had flown them back into Peter's bed (And wasn't that something already? He'd flown again! The first time since… you know, since that day in Texas). There he'd held Peter and had tried to make the dejected disappointment disappear from Peter's eyes by telling him shit about superheroes as kids. Or rather, the nonexistence of them.

They'd fallen asleep in each other's arms soon after that and now…

Now Peter had caught him with his hand down his pants (very much like the proverbial hand in the cookie jar, wasn't it?)! He'd been about to jerk off, in front of his little brother!

Fuck!

Nathan covered his face with his hands and let out a deep groan. He heard Peter laugh gleefully and shook his head.

"Oh come on, Nathan!" Peter nudged his side with an elbow. "It's not that bad, is it? I didn't get to see anything, if that's what you're worried about!"

Nathan simply glared at him and stood up from the bed. "I'm gonna go take a shower!"

Peter broke into another giggle-fit and Nathan turned back to him with another glare. "Good to see you're feeling better, Pete, but… seriously, shut it, alright?"

Peter sobered up immediately. "I am feeling better, Nathan. Thanks to you!"

Nathan walked on without a reply but when he'd reached the bathroom door Peter's next words stopped him from going in. "In fact, I'm feeling so good right now that I'm gonna let you take your shower without bothering you at all. So you can 'walk your dog' for as long as you like, Nathan! Or, you know… need to."

"What's that?" Nathan turned around again, a disbelieving glint brightening his eyes.

"Jimmy Hawthorne explained it to me," Peter grinned embarrassed. "You know, 'walking your dog'… he told me all about how he spied on his brother doing it that one time and..."

"You know what, Pete?" Nathan stated with one hand on the doorknob. "Some day I'd really like to meet that friend of yours, if only to flush his head down the nearest toilet!"

Peter broke into a huge grin imagining that and Nathan shook his head silently before he finally made his way into the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and, after a second thought, turned the lock on both doors, the one to Peter's bedroom as well as to his own.

He wouldn't put it past his devilish little brother to try sneaking in on him in the shower. Although, Nathan threw a quick glance at his now flaccid cock, not that there would be anything for Peter to see. The urge to relieve some pressure had definitely passed after what had just happened!

Nathan let the water heat up and then stepped under the scalding hot spray, determined to wash away the embarrassment as well as the lingering memories of a certain gleam in Peter's eyes when he'd been staring at his crotch earlier. Peter had looked so… fascinated and attached… absolutely hooked.

And, oh fuck, he was only twelve!

Nathan forbid himself to think about what would become of their relationship if Peter would continue giving him those looks once he'd be fifteen, nineteen or, God forbid, twenty-five!

That way lay a place, a pretty dark one, Nathan definitely wouldn't allow his thoughts to wander to, ever!

Not if he could help it, that is!

It was the 28th of May 1992, when Nathan vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to keep this promise.

* * *

**END OF PART ONE**

Coming soon:

**Part Two in the 'Patchwork Family' Series: Fight And Flight**

**Teaser:** "I'm sorry, Nathan," was all Peter had to say. He pulled his big brother close and placed a tender kiss onto his hair. "I'm sorry."

Then he went and quickly filled their glasses with red wine. He handed one to Nathan and lifted his own up in a toast. "To the new periods of our lives, whether they begin with committing ourselves to new places…" he waved his glass around to encompass their surroundings, "…or new people. May it result in happiness for the both of us, together forever."

"Hear hear," Nathan smiled and lifted the wineglass to his lips.

_I will start posting Part Two in a few days (three, tops). Until then... tell me what you think of this, please._


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